


Blood and Sweetrolls

by SnowElfDragon95



Series: Usaeleí of the Shadows [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Companions (Skyrim), Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), M/M, Multi, Other, Thieves Guild (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowElfDragon95/pseuds/SnowElfDragon95
Summary: Red... The color red bathing his ice colored scales in a pink hue... The sounds of his prey twitching and writhing under his claws.... The delight in his victims begging him to release his sharp reptilian fangs.... The light of their eyes fading into the Void before his jeweled mismatched eyes... Usaeleí of the Shadows finds himself going down a path he had not anticipated since leaving his friends on Solsthiem but after meeting a certain strange and maniacal jester, it somehow feels right. Follow our Argonian as he embarks on an adventure with twists and turns.
Relationships: OC/Cierco
Series: Usaeleí of the Shadows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738987
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. A Rough Start

**Author's Note:**

> Usaeleí- White Beast (my personal translation)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rough night's sleep after a rocky voyage to Windhelm, Usaeleí embarks on his journey to where ever The Dread Father takes him. From ash and sun, to a fate now spun. No time to run, the madness begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saxheel translations:
> 
> Biko- friend
> 
> Xuth- shit 
> 
> Waxuthi- dammit

_Grip. Claw. Slash._

  
_A scream._

_SHIIIINK!!!!!_

  
_Silence._

  
_Blood pooled beneath its ivory claws and dripped from the beast’s pearly white fangs. It’s serpentine tail whipping behind it like a demonic cat as the creature licked its chops with his forked tongue. The delightful taste of iron and salt excited its senses even more. Its antlered shaped horns seemed to cradle the moons over it causing its scales to shimmer like silver under their dim light. Usaeleí’s mismatched eyes widen in horror at the sight. Before him were the mauled bodies of a Khajiit woman with fur and hair as black as night and an elven woman with hair and skin as white snow. “Khyeena! Isilmé!” The Argonian gasped in despair as he fell to his knees at the state of his beloved family. Their glazed eyes staring back at him made his insides churn. He turned his gaze upward at the creature that stared back at him with the same mismatched eyes as him._   
_“This is what you are, Usaeleí.” The creature hissed without opening its maw. “A beast!”_   
_Usaeleí trembled as the creature seemed to grow larger. The gold and emerald eyes narrowed into slits, pulsing darkly as it crawled towards him like a feline. The frightened Argonian tried to crawl away with each step the monster took towards him in a desperate attempt to evade the beast. This just angered it even more. The monster leapt at him, pinning his tail down halting his escape and sank its fangs into his thro-_

  
“No!!” Usaeleí screamed jolting awake clutching his throat and chest as his heart continued to race uncomfortably in his chest. He turned his head from side to side and sighed a shaky breath relieved to discover that he was alone in the Argonian Refuge in Windhelm. He pushed himself off the ground and stood by the fire to warm his aching body. He had taken shelter here the night before after arriving at the Windhelm docks. The warm heat felt so soothing for his ice colored scales and he closed his eyes briefly.

  
Skyrim...

  
This country was much, much colder than the warm, tropical swamps of Black Marsh and the ash covered island of Solsthiem, but oddly enough, he felt right at home here. “Though I hope the rumor about the dragons here are just that. Rumors.” The lizard groaned. He gathered the small satchel beside his bedroll containing a few changes of fur clothes, a couple steel daggers and his most prized possession: an amulet of Sithis. He traced the obsidian colored skull with his scaly fingers with the utmost care then draped the pendant around his neck. It was the only thing he had of his parents. He tucked the amulet under his shirt and slung the bag over his shoulder.

  
He was just about to leave the Windhelm when he noticed a strange sight near the stables. An Imperial was pacing around anxiously beside a wagon as the stablemaster and his apprentice were loading a massive crate on to the bed. To say the Imperial man was dressed oddly was a ludicrous understatement. A jester of all things! He wore a black and red jester’s outfit with the pointed boots and all. Well, Usaeleí noted that he was missing the bells for his hat, but other than that, the man certainly dressed the part. He shrugged and looked at his map, tilting his head this way and that. He had a few choices on which way to go. He could take the road on the right that headed towards Whiterun; he could straight towards the Rift or left and cross the river to Winterhold.

  
Gah! Decisions, decisions and he didn’t have enough gold to get a ride either. Suddenly, a strange scent invaded his nostrils. He inhaled deeply. Floral... Poisonous, yet oddly sweet. Nightshade, perhaps? Yet as he glanced around, he found no evidence or signs of the purple flower. Strange. He soon took notice that he was being watched and he turned around to find the strange Imperial boring a hole through him with his dark almost honeyed colored eyes. He felt the creature in him stir slightly and he quirked a scaly brow cautiously at the Jester growing increasingly uncomfortable with the man’s stare.

  
“Is there something I can help you with?” He questioned keeping his mismatched eyes firmly on the Imperial.

  
“Poor Cicero does not mean to be any trouble,” The Imperial began while making a quick glance at the large crate before continuing, “but as the pretty lizard can see, Cicero is new to Skyrim. He’s taking his poor, sweet Mother to a new home. A new crypt.”

  
Usaeleí’s brow twitched slightly. _Pretty? I’m not a female..._ He exhaled annoyed, briefly getting distracted by his breath turning white in the frigid air watching it dance in the biting cold. He turned his head back to the Jester, nearly jumping in alarm to find the man awfully close to him. Too close in the Argonian’s opinion. He then realized that the Imperial was actually taller than he was. Granted, Usaeleí himself was a little over five feet tall, which was rather short for an Argonian but that was beside the point. Apparently, the jester known as Cicero was looking for someone to be a guide or navigator while traversing Skyrim’s vast lands. 

  
“Cicero can pay the lizard for his troubles.” The Imperial tried to sweeten the deal. Usaeleí mulled it over in his head. 

  
It was true he needed the gold but if the jester was new to Skyrim, he’d need his gold more than Usaeleí would. _“Do not take from those in more need than you.”_ He remembered Khyeena always saying. He smiled at himself. Gods, he missed his friends. The Khajiit had left Solsthiem to travel to Alik’r and train as a dancer then he left for Black Marsh to follow up on a lead years later, leaving poor Isilmé behind on the ashy island of Solsthiem. Realizing he strayed too far into his thoughts, he cleared his throat.

  
“Keep your gold, _biko_ , I’d be more than happy to assist you, as long as you don’t mind the company” Usaeleí grinned. The jester made a gleeful shriek and hopped onto the driver’s seat taking the reins while Usaeleí carefully placed his pack behind them. He then checked to make sure everything was strapped down securely and approached the mare hitched to the wagon and patted the horse’s neck. He climbed up beside the Jester who opted that they head towards Riften first. Why?

  
“Just for fun. Cicero has heard it is an exciting place to be!” He cackled as they passed Kynesgrove. Usaeleí gave the jester a questioning look. 

  
From what he knew about Riften, it was a shit-hole with no redeeming qualities and someone would more than likely find a dagger in the gut then a hot meal. Still, he went along with the idea. As the duo rode in silence, Usaeleí would often doze off more so than he’d like. Being tired wasn’t anything new or unnerving to him, it was the fact that he; more rather his beast; felt strangely comfortable around this man. This stranger. 

  
Usaeleí was listening absentmindedly to Cicero’s babbling when he noticed that they were almost to Riften. _Xuth_. He was not expecting time to fly that fast. Usaeleí volunteered to get them a room at the inn for the night while the Jester got the horse settled for the evening. Just as the lizard entered the city, after intimidating the guards into letting him pass, his nose caught the scent of jasmine on the wind. He closed his eyes and twirled around his claws locking with a fur covered hand. 

  
“Khyeena?!”

  
“Usaeleí?!” 

  
The ebony colored Khajiiti woman lowered her hand as did he. Her silvery grey eyes glittered in delight as she hugged the Argonian happily, her ears folding back in content. Her tail was swishing back and forth followed by a sweet purr from her throat. Usaeleí’s mismatched eyes squinted excitedly. “It’s good to see you again! I didn’t know you were in Skyrim!” The lizard exclaimed before adding, “Although, I am uncertain as to why you chose Riften as your home.” The Cat chuckled and gestured to her home behind her. “This one will be more than happy to explain. Please come in. I have seared salmon and roasted hare cooking.” She explained motioning her old friend to follow. “I’m traveling with someone. Would it be alright if we stayed the night?” 

  
“This one doesn’t see why not. So long as you two don’t mind my company.” 

  
“He also is transporting his mother’s coffin. Do you think-”

  
“He can use the basement to protect his mother’s remains. Just meet me by the lake. The entrance is just down the small slope near the stables.” Khyeena purred as she walked into her home and Usaeleí returned to Cicero where the two met Khyeena down near the entrance of her basement. She also had a large red-headed Nord called Brynjolf, with her and with his help, the three men gently placed the crate on the floor and locked up the basement. While the four of them ate, Khyeena explained how she met Brynjolf in Alik’r and went on about joining up with Thieves Guild. According to Brynjolf, they were having more than a small case of bad luck and recruited Khyeena while visiting Alik’r. 

  
The Cat further explained that she and the Nord were attempting to rebuild it back to its former glory. Sadly, the two had a meeting with their Guildmaster and had to leave to the Cistern. “Feel free to take what you need, Usaeleí. If this one does not see you tomorrow, she hopes that you will visit again soon.” Khyeena smiled and waved goodnight before closing the door. Cicero was humming as he headed down to the basement saying that his mother needed tending. Usaeleí left him to it and noticed some snowberries in a bowl on a nightstand.

  
He cocked his head to the side then smiled as an idea came to mind. To thank his old friend, he decided to make a dessert that he and his friends enjoyed immensely when he’d bake it as children. Sweet rolls. But not just any sweet roll, oh nononono. It was his own recipe: Snowberry Sweet Rolls. He set to work on cooking up the tasty treat. Usaeleí was normally not into cooking but he noticed that his beast tended to relax more after having a sweet roll. He smiled to himself as he set the cakes on the table to cool while he made the snowberry icing, reminiscing on how Isilmé and Khyeena, as well as himself, enjoyed the pastry after a long day of work. 

  
The sweet smell of sugar hit Cicero like a dagger to the gut as the jester turned his gaze to the stairs leading up to the kitchen. He snuck upstairs noticing the lizard had his back to him and on the table were the delectable treats. Cicero quietly slunk towards the table and reached for one, only to let out a surprised gasp when Usaeleí threw a dagger at him missing the jester’s hand by mere millimeters. “These are for later!” The lizard scowled, hissing a warning as he grabbed his steel dagger and returned to icing the cakes. Pouting, Cicero watched as the lizard took his time. It was almost maddening!

  
Once finished with the icing, the Argonian handed Cicero one of the sweetrolls. The jester’s face lit up in genuine delight at the sight of the frosted cake and he felt his cheeks warm slightly in embarrassment at the sight of him being overjoyed with something so small. The lizard rolled his mixed eyes at the lewd sounds Cicero was deliberately making while devouring the pastry then felt an actual blush tint his scaly cheeks a faint pink hue when the jester grinned strangely at him. Cheeky bastard.

  
After bidding each other good night, the Jester took the bed downstairs while the Argonian added more wood to the fire and laid down besides the warm flames. Between the voyage to Windhelm, then traveling by carriage to Riften, the day left him drained. A restful sleep sounded heavenly, however thanks to the blood that swam through his veins, a peaceful night was far from his grasp. He curled up into a ball like a dog, his head resting atop his tail that was now wrapping around him. He steeled himself for the long rough night ahead. Slowly, almost painfully, his heavy-lidded eyes closed and he huffed tiredly.

Visions of blood filled his mind and the pale lizard groaned and growled in distress. The sweet taste of blood and snowberries permeated his palate that is until an odd scent of old blood, oils and nightshade tickled his nose. He opened his golden eye to find a startling sight. Cicero was perched above him, hovering over too close to his face. In a swift motion, Usaeleí's tail threw the jester off him and he upon the man instantly baring his fangs at him. His claws at Cicero's throat, a low guttural growl escaped the lizard's maw. His gold and green eyes wandered, taking in the jesters short yet spiky red hair now turned crimson in the dancing orange and red hues of the still crackling fire. The Imperial’s proud features were marred with his crooked smile and his eyes were focuses intently on the lizard's intimidating glare.

  
“What the fuck were you doing?” He snorted finally while doing his best to ignore what was pressing up against him and he swished his tail. “And why?”

  
“Well, naughty Cicero was woken by sweet little lizard upstairs. You move and growl so much! And loudly I might add! What does pretty little lizard dream about Cicero wonders?” He asked curiously and Usaeleí narrowed his mismatched eyes into slits before foolishly adverting his stare from the jester’s intense gaze when hearing something fall on the roof. Big mistake. The Imperial flipped them, reversing their positions! Usaeleí struggled to free himself against the surprisingly strong jester only to feel the icy touch of what could only be his dagger against his scaly cheek.

  
“Ah, ah, ah, little Lizard, that isn’t very nice.” 

  
“Neither is this!” Usaeleí snarled and yanking the dagger in Cicero’s hand with his fangs and swiped his claws at the little fool only managing to scratch his neck as the man effortlessly danced well beyond his grasp. How is he so nimble?! The Argonian’s mismatched eyes began glow as they fixated on the thin cut he had make on his pale neck. Blood slowly welled to the surface of the miniscule wound and hunger hit him like giant’s club to the stomach. From the look of delight on the Imperial’s features, he knew that it showed on his face as well. A lowly growl resonated from his throat as the lizard’s eyes barely showed the irises. His tongue rolled against his fangs slowly, his lips curling into a dark smile that sent shivers down the jester’s spine in excitement.

  
“I never claimed to be a nice person,” Usaeleí added with a purr, raising the clawed hand he had swiped Cicero with to his lips and licked his claws almost painfully slow, relishing in the still lingering taste of blood on his claws. The salty, copper taste was oh so sweet. Almost more so than the snowberry sweetrolls. “A suggestion to you, Cicero: you should take better care in not angering me. Next time I won’t hold back.”

  
Cicero made a strange, almost strangled noise as the Lizard’s tongue teased his skin, the sharp points of his fangs scraping dangerous against his pulse. _Interesting_ , Usaeleí noted mentally, his pulse is steady, even in this situation. What strange man. _**Prey...** _He pulled away and shook his head when he began feeling an all too familiar presence within his consciousness. The glow of his eyes dimmed, returning to normal and he exhaled sharply. 

  
The Argonian returned to his spot beside the fire, his eyes never leaving the jester’s form as he sat at the table watching him. No doubt, the fool would have killed him had he not awaken and surprised him. The lizard snorted twitching his tail like a cat unamused. He then continued to lick the faintest traces of his blood on his claws more out of habit than anything else. Cicero shivered visibly and he let out an excited squeak. Usaeleí felt some of his spines bristle and the creature stirred again.

  
“I’ll be back,” Without another word, he rose to his feet and left the house into the darkness. The moon reflected on the lake behind the house like glass. He could see some deer in the distance then caught sight of an old woman dragging a child who was weeping and crying in dismay. His eyes glowed as he growled silently. Dropping to all fours, the Argonian slunk through the shadows nary making a sound as his forked tongue tasted the air. He could faintly hear the horses at the stables nickering softly in fear but he ignored them. He followed the two, silently flexing his claws. Screams of terror echoed through the inky darkness. Silence...

  
A few hours later, Usaeleí returned to Khyeena’s house dragging the carcass of a deer along behind him. He had left the old crone's bloody mess and was now finishing up swallowing her heart when he arrived at the house. The child had disappeared back to Riften in terror. Cicero had been contemplating on whether or not he should steal the remaining sweet rolls on the table when he heard a loud thud outside. Curious, he wandered out back to find his eyes rolling over the Argonian’s wild appearance. His silvery white scales were stained with blood which ruined the tunic and leggings he wore. Crimson rivers trailing down his throat from devouring the heart of his prey causing him to lick his chops. Honestly, the lizard felt much better for it and proceeded to skin the deer in silence. Sensing the Jester approaching him from behind, Usaeleí smacked his tail against the ground and whirled around gripping Cicero’s wrists tightly. 

  
“Don’t touch me again or I will personally send your soul to Sithis” He growled.

  
He then released his hold on the man and returned to his work, setting the meat for drying and wrapping some up for cooking later, silently thanking the gods when Cicero wandered back inside. He then grabbed his satchel and went down to bathe in the lake before falling asleep. He shuddered as he watched the blood stain the water making his stomach twist and he took a deep breath before diving under the water. The moon shone on his drenched scaly body making them shimmer and glow. He shook his body and reached for the furs in his bag, changing before returning the house with eyes landing upon a figure sneaking around.

  
At first glance, the lizard thought that it was probably Cicero trying to sneak up on him again but his beast was telling him otherwise. Then the powerful scent hit his all too sensitive nose like a charging dragon and he went rigid. Sickeningly sweet. Ozone. He flicked his tongue. He tasted magic and blood on the wind. He gripped his daggers as he scanned the area spying more shadows circling towards Khyeena’s house. Their glowing red eyes gazing hungrily. 

  
Vampires...

_Waxhunthi!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name Pronunciation and fun facts:
> 
> Usaeleí: (Ooh-sah-lay) A ice colored Argonian lycanthrope with mismatched eyes and antlered horns. Born and raised in Black Marsh until he was ten after being attacked by a strange werebeast where Telvani Wizard Neloth was asked to look into his condition.
> 
> Cicero: Fool of Hearts, Keeper, Assassin, Sithis worshipper. Needless to say he has many titles but one things for sure, this maniacal jester is more than what he seems.
> 
> Khyeena: (Kai-ee-Na) A Suthay Khajiit woman with midnight black fur, silvery gray eyes and a white crescent moon on her forehead. Became a member of the Thieves Guild after becoming an exotic dancer in Alik'ir. [She has her own debut coming up soon.]
> 
> Isilmé: (E-sil-mey) One of the last Ancient Falmer (snow-elf) in Tameriel. Dragonborn, Companion and more. [She has her own story that I will post on a later date.]


	2. Cold-Blooded with a Warm Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After narrowly avoiding a hoard of Vampires, Usaeleí and Cicero are on the road again. As always, nothing goes as planned as a storm hits and poor Cicero catches a terrible cold. Oh no! Usaeleí does his best to look after the strange jester and a brief introduction of the Night Mother and Usaelei's werebeast finally speaks.

"Hisssss!” Usaeleí growled through his fangs as he hunched over, his eyes glowing as the beast made its presence known once more and he flexed his claws. The fanged bloodfiends turned around to face him and they snarl back at him. Their hands were glowing red with a blood-red hue. _Blood magic._ “I suggest you two go hunt elsewhere,” The beast warned as the vampires drew closer, circling him like slaughterfish to a bleeding salmon. He watched them, waiting for them to give him an opening. Just as the blood-sucking parasites were about to attack, the sun broke on the horizon and shone its brilliant rays upon the lake blinding the foul beings. They hiss and shield they eyes before turning invisible and running off deep into the forest. The Argonian sighed in relief before feeling his maw open and he yawned tiredly. 

  
“Another sleepless night,” He groaned as he went to get the wagon ready for Cicero. Again, the beast deprived him of a much need rest and as usual, it didn’t seem to care about its host’s needs. While hooking up the mare, he overhead some of the guards talking about the old woman and he cringed inwardly. Apparently, the hag was known as Grelod the Kind and she was the head mistress of Riften’s orphanage. However, from what the guards were saying, Grelod was anything but kind often being known for abusing the children under her care. “Serves the bitch right,” He grumbled and felt the creature purr in agreement. Strange. Once he had the wagon by the basement entrance, he and Cicero hauled the coffin on to the bed then before they left, Usaeleí left a note, thanking Khyeena for allowing the two a place to stay and mentioned where he hid the sweetrolls for her. 

  
“Cicero is curious... How does pretty lizard know the black kitty cat?” The jester asked as they got back on the road. Usaeleí hummed as he searched his memories then glanced at the Imperial.

  
“Khyeena and I grew up together with our elf friend on Solstheim as children. She left to become a dancer in Alik’r” Usaeleí smiled fondly as memories of playing Catch the Daedra with Khyeena and reading at night with Isilmé flooded his thoughts.

  
“What happened to the elf?”

  
“I assume Isilmé’s still stuck on Solstheim missing me and Khyeena.” The lizard shrugged uncertain. Thankfully the jester dropped the subject and continued to babble on to the lizard. Usaeleí would nod his head every so often but after a couple hours he found himself dozing off into a half-conscious state. He wasn’t quite asleep but he wasn’t fully awake either. Still, the lizard was more on alert than one would appear as he ended up blocking some of Cicero’s jabs with his knife. “Cicero is just checking,” Cicero would cackle, earning an eye roll. Yeah right.... The sky began to darken and the sound of thunder echoed overhead. 

  
“We better find shelter.” Usaeleí stated as he pointed to a large cave in the distance. They were almost to their destination when the sky opened up and unleashed a heavy downpour. The lizard felt sorry for the jester’s misery as they were drenched with rain water. The Argonian, on the other hand, loved the rain. There was something soothing about it and he always looked forward to the next storm. Cicero managed to get the wagon into the large carven when Usaeleí ignited their fire and noticed the Imperial shivering and mumbling about the cold. Sighing, Usaeleí tossed the man his spare tunic and leggings from his bag. “Get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death of cold.” He instructed as he removed his own shirt and laid it beside the fire to dry. 

  
Cicero could only stare. The lizard was very lean for his size. Not like some of the muscle-headed brutes and warriors Cicero met in Windhelm. His ice colored scales turned a pale orange and red, reflecting the fire’s flickering flames. The jester allowed his eyes to study Usaeleí, swallowing hard at the lizard’s throat as he saw his pulse ripple across his jugular. His eyes than spotted the pendant around his neck. It was an amulet of Sithis, but an older version. Argonian style. Made of obsidian with the eyes embedded with rubies. “Cicero!” He heard the lizard snap. Blinking, the jester changed into the clothes the kind lizard lent him and tossed his soaked motley to him. He grinned in delight at the pink hue on the lizard’s cheeks. Such a shy creature.

While Usaeleí dried their clothes, the jester briefly left to tend to Mother. He mumbled nonsense as he continued his work. That is, until he sneezed and shuttered. He ignored it, finishing his work and reached for the sack of food only to sneeze again and cough. Odd, Cicero rarely got sick, if at all. He couldn’t get sick! Mother needed him to protect her! He tried to shrug it off and reached for the sack once more.

  
A scaly hand snatched it from him and he twirled around to find Usaeleí standing behind him. He then felt the Argonian’s forehead gently connect with his, being careful not to poke the Imperial with his antlers, Usaeleí’s eyes boring into his dark honey stare and a low growl rumbled from the pretty lizard’s throat. “Don’t worry about dinner” The lizard stated then pointed to the fire. “Go rest by the fire.” It wasn’t a request. 

  
“But Mother-” The Jester tried to protest but had to quickly cover his mouth as another cough interrupted him. “Cicer- I need to protect her.” 

  
“Your devotion is admirable,” The lizard explained, “but you need to rest. You are in no shape to even defend yourself.” 

  
Cicero bared his teeth angrily as he attempted to prove this little lizard wrong but when he tried to wield his dagger, he realized too late how sluggish he was as the pretty lizard smacked the blade aside and whipped his tail around knocking the jester off his feet. “No fair! Cicero wasn’t ready!” The lizard scolded at him and pointed at the fire. “Bed. I will not ask again. I will watch over your mother for you. I give you my word.” Grudgingly, Cicero sluggishly made his way to his bedroll, grumbling, cursing, more sneezing and coughing if anything and he crawled under the furs. He’s almost as stubborn as Isilmé when she got sick! The lizard rolled his eyes as he set to work making a soup stock in the small cauldron over the fire.

  
_**You are a kind soul...my son** _

  
Usaeleí stiffened as he looked around warily. “Who’s there?” He hissed quickly scanning the area before setting his mismatched eyes on to the jester’s sleeping form. Thinking he was just hearing things, the Argonian stirred the soup after dicing the vegetables and roasted chicken into tiny cubes. He then added some garlic and spicy peppers to the soup. Once satisfied with the batch, he poured some into a wooden bowl and gently nudged the Imperial on the shoulder. The jester groaned incoherently. “Cicero, can you move? I made you some soup. It will help.” Usaeleí tilted his head as the man sat up stifling another cough. He took the bowl and drank down the broth slowly. He handed the lizard back the bowl before laying back and falling back asleep. 

  
**_Thank you for looking after him..._** Again, that strange voice sounded and he growled that he couldn’t find the source.

  
“Um... sure... you’re welcome. I guess?” He answered then shook his head. Either someone was messing with him or perhaps he was sick as well! Better make another batch of soup...

  
True to his word though, Usaeleí maintained watch over the camp and the coffin as the storm continued to rage outside. Over the next few hours, thunder boomed, the wind howled loudly and the Argonian saw lightning streak across the sky in the distance. He shielded his eyes as the wind stirred up debris and blew out the fire like a candle. “ _Xuth_!” He cursed as he grabbed the wagon canvas and made a makeshift curtain around the cave entrance in an attempt to keep out the storm. He then tried to get the fire going once more but the chattering of the jester’s teeth had Usaeleí looking up in alarm. Even without light, he could see Cicero shivering under the bedroll. He smacked the flint stones roughly, finally getting a spark and he fanned the embers back into a crackling fire.

  
Usaeleí then dragged his blanket over to the Imperial before draping it on top of him. Still the man shivered. “Can’t be helped then.” The lizard grimaced as he settled himself down beside the jester, curling around him in a ring of warmth. It’s just for tonight. He repeated over and over in his head. He felt Cicero’s shivering slowly cease and his tail swished against the ground almost as if he was... Wait. Was he actually wagging his tail?! Nope! No way in Oblivion! Sithis take him! He was not a dog. The beast within snarled at him irritated. 

  
**You can’t keep ignoring my existence, biko.**

  
“Shut up, _Xajihgreel_!” The Argonian bared his teeth angrily as the monster slunk back into his subconscious. He would soon die than acknowledge that thing’s existence. It was thanks to IT that he lost... no. He shook his head banishing the memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saxheel translations:
> 
> Biko- friend
> 
> Xuth- shit
> 
> Xajihgreel- [saw-gee-gre-eel] monster (actually translates to dangerous enemy but since there are no words in Saxheel for monster i just made up a word.)


	3. Where There's Jealously, There's a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Cicero recovers from his cold, the duo make their way to Whiterun after finding that the route through Helgen is cut off only to have the wagon wheel break. Luckily, another old friend helps them out. However our crazy jester realizes he's a bit jealous of this old friend.

Morning soon came and Cicero was feeling much better. And warm. Unusually so. He opened his eyes to find Usaeleí curled up against him, but the pretty lizard’s gaze was locked firmly on the wagon near the entrance. He kept his promise. As if sensing the jester had awoken, the Argonian glanced at him briefly before moving away. _No. Don’t leave poor Cicero alone..._ Cicero whined receiving a confused stare from the lizard. “Oh... Did Cicero say that out loud?” Usaeleí nodded sympathetically before getting breakfast started. Their clothes had finished drying and while the jester ate, he watched the pretty lizard collect their camp supplies.   
“Ah, how can Cicero ever repay the pretty lizard for nursing him back to health?” 

  
“You can start by calling me by my name.” The Argonian grumbled getting a little irritated at being called pretty. He hitched the horse to the wagon and smiled fondly when the animal nudged her soft muzzle against his scaly hand.

  
“Oh right. Pretty kitty called you Usa... um Asay-” The Jester grinned deliberately butchering the lizard’s name, delighting in seeing his eyebrow twitch.

  
“Usaeleí.” Usaeleí corrected crossing his arms, “It’s my Saxheel name.”

  
“Ohhhhh but Cicero loves calling the lizard ‘pretty lizard’ because it’s sooo much easier to remember,” Cicero teased dodging the swipe of Usaelei’s claws cackling in delight. Pretty lizard was so much fun to tease. Usaeleí snorted and scoffed before turning away to hide the grin forming on his face. At least the Imperial recovered swiftly. Climbing on to the driver’s seat, the two got back on the road. After a couple hours, the duo had to turn the wagon around after finding the road through Helgen blocked by soldiers clearing fallen trees that looked like they were charred and cut by some sort of beast and they opted to not stick around.

  
Usaeleí was unsure when he had fallen asleep or how long he had been asleep, but the sound of something snapping and the wagon nearly tipping over jostled him awake rather quickly as the brown mare whinnied in alarm rearing up. The Argonian jumped off the seat and quickly grabbed the bridle then patted the animal to calm it while Cicero assessed the damage. Once the horse had settled, he joined the jester to discover that the back wheel had snapped off its axle. Luckily, the coffin remained in tacked and unharmed. However, the bad news was that now they were stranded. 

  
“Raghhhh! Cursed wagon wheel! Damndest wagon wheel!” Cicero cursed as he paced around spouting out in a rather colorful language that had the Argonian stifling a chuckle. He found the jester’s current state rather amusing. He also noticed upon glancing at their map, they were on the borders between Whiterun and the Pale, which told him that he had been asleep about four hours. Usaeleí sniffed the air catching the scent of freshly turned soil and flour being grinded then noticed a windmill up the hill beside the road. _I could ask the occupants up there if they have any tools_ , He thought scratching his head, _but I don’t know much about repairing wagons..._ Both men were at a lost when suddenly they heard someone call out to them from up the road.   
“Usaeleí, is that you?”

  
His mismatched eyes widen in surprise. It couldn’t be! He turned to find two figures on horseback riding towards them: a Nord man in wolf themed steel armor with neatly kept black hair and icy blue eyes covered in chalky black war paint and an elven woman with hair and skin as white as freshly fallen snow and eyes that shamed the brightest amethyst.

“Isilmé?! Is it truly you?” The Argonian gasped then grunted when she pulled him into a tight hug. Gods! It had been well over nine years since they last saw each other! While the two briefly chatted amongst themselves, Cicero had gone oddly quiet. Almost dangerously so. _Why is the white elf hugging Cicero’s pretty lizard like that? Pretty lizard is Cicero’s, not hers or the Cat’s!_ The jester gripped the daggers on his hip tightly. Oh, she would look absolutely splendid in red… Maybe Mother would like a new little handmaiden. He stopped himself nearly forgetting about the brawny Nord standing by patiently. _No! Bad Cicero! Bad! White elf and pretty lizard are just friends who have not seen each other in a long time! Right?_

  
_But they won’t stop talking!_ The fool battled inwardly with himself. Wait, was he jealous? To Cicero’s relief, Usaeleí got straight to business asking the elf known as Isilmé and her Nord companion for assistance with their wagon, to which they were happy to help. It took the four of them about an hour to repair the wagon wheel but it was worth it. Almost. After bidding the elf farewell, Cicero was more than eager to leave as he nearly sprang on to the driver’s seat along with Usaeleí. However, the lizard couldn’t help but notice how silent the Imperial was and it actually concerned him. He was mumbling silently, brows furrowed and sometimes he’d growl.

  
“Um, are you alright Cicero?”

  
“Cicero is just fine! No need for pretty lizard to fret!” The jester snipped. The Argonian narrowed his eyes then heard chuckling coming from his beast and he crossed his arms. 

  
_What’s so funny?_ He asked the creature feeling it shift and lift its head towards his direction. It twitched its tail in amusement.

  
**Seems like the little fool is jealous.** It hummed baring its fangs in a toothy grin. 

  
_That’s ridiculous. Cicero is just being protective of his mothe- Wait why am I even talking to **YOU** of all things?_ Usaeleí frowned as his brows furrowed earning another laugh from the beast as it shook its head. The beast rolled its shoulders in a strange animal like shrug but was grinning eerily. The creature then rose to its feet and Usaeleí could ‘feel’ it gripping his conscious tightly with its claw causing the Argonian to once more wince in pain. **I do hope you remembered what tonight is going to be,** the beast taunted and only smiled more when the lizard remained quiet. **I suggest you find more adequate prey for me to hunt. I’d hate for you to be responsible for another death.**

  
_Bastard_! Usaeleí snarled angrily shoving the monster back into its corner within his mind. He blinked his reptilian eyes when Cicero waved his dagger in front of his face. He growled annoyed before chomping down on the blade making Cicero grumble as he tried to pull it away from the Argonian's maw. “Give Cicero back his knife!” The Imperial growled tapping the lizard's snout with his fingers as though he were nothing more than a disobedient mutt. He was so in shock, he released the knife and stared at the Jester. Did he really just smack his nose?! Seriously what is up with this fool? Usaeleí wondered as he rubbed his snout. After a good long while of listening to the Jester sing and hum for a long while, they eventually make camp alongside the road and started prepping up their tents and fire.

  
Usaeleí was doing his best to keep his mind busy by scanning their surroundings and searching for anything that would satisfy the monster. He yawned a little then shook his head to wake himself up. The sun was slowly setting and he finished roasting some of the venison over the fire when he heard the crazy fool singing a faint tune. He cocked his head to the side straining to listen: 

  
“ _And if I spy a singing bird, I’ll snap its neck before its heard... Tra la la... madness is merry and merriment’s might, when the jester comes a-calling with his knife tonight_.” 

  
Usaeleí shook his head smiling at the jester’s dark yet oddly curious little song. In the distance he could hear a faint howl of wolves in the distance and he spotted the twin moons beginning their ascent in the sky. “Cicero?” The Argonian beckoned as the strange Imperial bounded towards him after tending to his mother, a big grin on his face. “Did the pretty lizard call for Cicero?” Usaeleí nodded rubbing the back of his neck as he felt the creature stirring again. Gods, he had to think fast. When he spotted deer and rabbits sprinting away from the fire, Usaeleí decided to take a chance. “I’ll be going off to explore for a few hours.” The fool gave him a suspicious look. “Probably to go see that pale elf.” The Imperial sneered and Usaeleí blinked in surprise. _Does he think that Isilmé and I-_ “You thought- Hahahaha!” He clutched his stomach unable to stop his laughter.

  
The Jester glared daggers at Usaeleí as he continued snicker. “You silly fool! You forget, Isilmé and I grew up together with Khyeena.” The lizard explained then emphasized to the jealous jester that the elf and the Cat were like sisters to him. “You have no reason to be dislike them.” Cicero’s eyes widen like saucers and he looked away shamefully. Once the lizard finished laughing, he continued, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon and to make it up to you, the next inn we stay at, I’ll make you some Snowberry Sweetrolls.”

  
Just mentioning the delightful cake had Cicero’s amber eyes practically dilating with sheer joy and he instantly forgave the naughty little lizard. “Then Cicero will wait for the pretty lizard to return. He hopes you return unharmed.” He grinned then his expression turned serious, “As pretty lizard knows, dangers always lurk in the night.” **Oh, is that a challenge little clown? Shall we test that theory?** The beast chuckled loudly as he uncurled himself within Usaeleí’s thoughts and the poor Argonian had to force himself to smile just as mischievously as the jester to maintain control. “I’m more than capable of defending myself. You should worry about your mother before you concern yourself with me, Fool.” He waved as he left the camp. Well, Cicero had to admit, the Argoninan was right. For now. He huffed as he watched the lizard wander off into the vast plains of Whiterun. 

  
Usaeleí trudged through the tall tundra grass, running his clawed fingers through the stalks while looking for a good place to hunt. The beast was pacing around impatiently while its host caught the scent of a butchered mammoth in the distance. It would suffice the creature's hunger. At least, he hoped it would. Usaeleí turned his gaze to the camp which was no more than a speck of light. His gold and green eyes could spot Cicero pitching his tent back up after he foolishly knocked it over. “Probably can’t wait to enjoy the cakes.” He assumed with a crooked smile. By Sithis, he hoped this was far enough. He didn’t want to hurt his companion.

 **Don’t bet on it, biko.** The Argonian hissed painfully as he began to feel a sharp pain course through his body causing him to double over. 

  
And so, it began.


	4. A Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lycandrake makes its debut and almost makes a meal out of Cicero if not for the Night Mother calling out for Usaeleí to regain control. Unaware of Usaeleí's little problem, Cicero decides to punish his Pretty Lizard. But he's in for a surprise. (WARNING: BLOOD AND NUDITY. mildly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: This chapter is still under development but I'm kind of stuck. I'm open to suggestions.

Usaeleí felt as though he was being repeatedly stabbed with multiple daggers along his shoulders and back as a plethora of sharp silver spikes began pushing, breaking through his scales painfully. The almost sword-like spikes ripped through his clothes along his spine forcing him to his knees. His claws grew longer, sharper. Easier to shred into his prey. His fangs started to lengthen to the size of daggers and protruded from his scaly lips. To rip and tear through the thickest armors. He snarled as the bones in his body stretched, cracked and reconnected. He grew more spines along his now longer neck and throat that were much thinner almost fur-like quills that bristled and rattled. The scales along his body were hardening into a thick bony armor that looked like even the sharpest swords couldn’t pierce them. His tail twitched and spasm as more, smaller spines pierced past his scales and whipped around like serpent’s. The transformation was almost complete and he growled gasping for breath as he could feel his consciousness slipping way, being dragged by the beast. His eyes snapped open as his pupils narrowed into thin black slits. Usaeleí was gone. The Lycandrake had come to play and it turned its head towards the camp in the distance with the twin moons cradled under his horns and his forked tongue rolling over its long fangs.

Prey... 

It was the sound of the horse neighing frantically that awoken the now grouchy Cicero. It was probably spooked by a wolf or sabre cat. He scoffed tossing the blanket off of him as he crawled out of the tent only to find the camp in ruins. The mare was shrieking and rearing up, stamping her hooves against the ground and the growls of a beast hidden within the grass echoed in the quiet night. That didn’t sound like a wolf or sabre. Drawing his dagger, the jester listened, cursing the rustling grass as it was making it difficult to pinpoint the creature. A rock rattled behind him and Cicero pivoted just in time to slash whatever was trying to attack him. He only managed to cut some of the flesh around its neck but didn’t get a good look at the creature. For something so massive, it was more than nimble. 

“ _Come out, come out, where ever you are_ ” The jester taunted in a singsong voice scanning the area before him. “ _Cicero just wants to have some fun_.” He ducked when the monster leapt at him from the side only managing to once again leave a tiny cut on its body. His amber eyes widen in horror when he saw the faint outline of the beast slink around towards Mother’s coffin. “Leave Mother alone, you brute!” He all but screamed. He would make a necklace for Mother with the vile creature’s fangs and spines. Maybe he’d make a set for the pretty lizard! Before he could react, he was knocked aside by the beast’s tail. From the silhouette, Cicero noted the creature walked on all fours like some sort of deathhound but Cicero was absolutely certain the beast was reptilian. Like a wingless dragon! The creature arched its back and it suddenly fizzled into the shadows effortlessly. He blinked in surprise.

That was a Shadowscale trick!

He spun around thinking the creature had sidestepped behind him but was gravely mistaken when he felt a massive form pin him face first into the dirt. 

Sharp claws dug into his shoulders, slowly dragging across the fabric like a cat leaving long welts across his skin. Strange chuffs and growls resonated from the monster’s throat. Cicero shuddered when the scratchy forked tongue ran across his neck and throat. Sharp pointed teeth nipped at the sensitive skin between his shoulder and neck causing gooseflesh to radiate over his skin. Suddenly, the beast went rigid as though something else caught its attention and just as swiftly as it came, it was gone, disappearing into the tundra grass. By the Dread Father, what was that? The jester rubbed his sore shoulders and after remembering Mother, rushed over to the coffin to assess the damage. Thank Sithis, no harm done. 

“Now that Cicero thinks about it, pretty lizard hasn’t come back yet” A dreadful thought entered the jester’s mind and he spun in the direction that Usaeleí had wondered off towards. He started to run in that direction but stopped midway. If he were to leave, then he’d be leaving Mother behind. He couldn’t do that but Usaeleí was probably in danger with that monster. Oh, what to do?

_**Usaeleí...** _

Usaeleí didn’t know who that motherly voice belonged to but he knew for certain that if it wasn’t for her intervention, he may have killed another friend. He was covered in wounds from a group of bandits he ambushed after leaving Cicero miraculously unharmed and the lizard was now returning to the camp. He didn’t care if he was indecent. He was tired, achy and in too much pain from the reversion to even worry about his appearance. The scent of oils and nightshade permeated his senses. He moved closer to the fire barely even hearing Cicero scold him for being late. He then felt something brush against his cheek as he sank to the ground. His eyelids threaten to close from exhaustion as he glared at the still ranting jester. “If Cicero wishes to have a tongue, he’d better close his trap before I rip it out.” He growled weakly.

It took Cicero a few moments to finally notice the wounds littering his little lizard’s body and he sighed exasperatedly. “Look at you, Pretty lizard is covered in wounds.” The jester collected a bowl, some water, and some clean linens. He then began cleaning his knife and noticed the lizard hiss a warning. The Fool of Hearts once again smacked the lizard’s nose. Little lizard needed to pay for getting himself injured. “Probably big bad monster left the nasty wounds. Cicero needs to fix them.” _Fix? Wait! He's not really going to-_ “No! No way!” Usaeleí said flatly as he tried to move away but the jester stepped on his tail to prevent his escape and he snarled. Why did everyone have to step on his tail?! The jester twirled his ebony dagger between his fingers then knelt down and tapped the Argonian’s throat with the blade roughly, 

“If the Pretty Lizard will just relax and let me help, I won’t have to be so rough” The Imperial cooed tracing Usaeleí’s throat slowly with his dagger and rested the point of the knife just under the Argonian’s chin. Cicero’s eyes widen slightly when the gold and emerald eyes glowed briefly and the lizard made a strange angry chuffing sound. Another warning. The jester ignored the lizard as he assessed the wounds, exploring each gash and cut earning an angry snarl from him. Cicero then moved away turning his head as if to tell Usaeleí to stay put, then proceeded to fill the cooking pot hanging over the fire with water. The Argonian snorted as he tried to sit up. “ _Xhuth!_ ” He growled, the spines on his neck and back shuddered sending a sharp pain through his body. 

“Cicero warned the pretty lizard to stay still!” Cicero chided and Usaeleí flicked his tongue at him, a pink hue spreading across his scaly cheeks. Cicero copied him and the lizard’s blush turned crimson and he looked away irritated. Cicero only laughed more at the childish antics. He then poured the hot water into a wooden bowl and tossed in a few linen rags. He then returned to the lizard and knelt down. A little too close for the lizard’s taste, but the Fool had a little revenge planned for naughty Argonian. Usaeleí bared his fangs as he forced himself to sit up but the movement was so painful, his emerald eye closed and he winced.

“Cicero must fix and dress these wounds and if lizard is a good boy, I promise to be gentle.” The Imperial grinned manically and Usaeleí gave him a confused glare. He severely doubted that but as his strength was failing him, the Argonian nodded reluctantly. Cleaning and dressing wounds were not one of his strong suits. Why did he trust this man so easily?

The Fool started to clean the cuts on his legs then while the Argonian was still relaxed, he cut the wounds open once more earning a faint growl from the pretty lizard but noticed he refused to look at Cicero. The jester narrowed his eyes as he continued his work, cutting and cleaning the wounds. He marveled at the strong yet lean muscled thighs on the lizard as he wrapped up the injuries. Sturdy hips and a serpentine tail. Even his scales were soft. He then tapped Usaeleí’s right arm and carefully slashed and cut through the wounds, ‘purifying’ them with his personal touch, grinning at the soft purr the lizard was unwittingly making. Firm. Strong. Ghostly. The white scales shimmered like opals in the moons’ light. Usaeleí, he noted, was very resilient to the blade slicing him. Almost as if this pain was normal for him. That disappointed the Jester greatly. Pretty lizard was no fun.

Usaeleí did not realize that he had forgotten to remove his amulet before his transformation and as he reached a clawed hand to his neck to fiddle with it, a short gasp left his lips catching Cicero’s attention. “ _Xhuth!_ No! It cannot be!” He cried out turning his head around frantically then groaned when the Imperial cut through a deeper wound along his ribcage. He was unaware that leather strap it was on had snapped when the Lycandrake took over. “Did you lose something?” Cicero questioned as he started washing the now ‘cleansed’ gash. He felt Usaeleí’s shoulders droop as a sad sigh was his response. “My amulet... it’s gone...” The Fool started to wrap the Argonian’s torso with the bandage, deliberately taking his time to feel every muscle, his fingers teasing his scaly hide. “Cicero will find it once pretty lizard is properly bandaged.” 

  
“Don’t worry about it, Cicero,” Usaeleí waved his hand dismissively then, deciding to change the topic, pointed to the wounds the crazy man had all but slashed open before wrapping, “Why did you reopen the wounds?” 

“Cicero doesn’t want his sweet lizard to have scars from anyone other than him.” The Imperial giggled then added flatly, “That and had to make sure the blood was clean.” Usaeleí opened his mouth to question what he meant but the Argonian suddenly yawned and was forced to cover his maw. “But Cicero thinks the lizard should go and get some sleep.” The jester chuckled as he helped Usaeleí into some clean breeches at least. Gods, Usaeleí was so tired he couldn’t even dress himself. By Sithis, he was more than a little embarrassed. It took whatever strength he had left to practically stagger into the tent.

His eyelids felt like they were made of lead as he struggled to keep them open. Usaeleí winced as he laid down on the soft fur blanket but once he settled in, he tiredly pulled a fur blanket over his small frame. He then felt someone caressing his cheek, the sweet scent of nightshade lulling him to sleep along with the same motherly voice singing a lullaby to him:

_**As the stars come out and are shining bright,** _  
_**Nirn is fast asleep.** _  
_**While the moonlight shines within your eyes** _  
_**I smile at your darling face.** _  
_**With this soothing voice, I’ll sing this song** _  
_**So while you slowly drift and fall asleep** _  
_**Know that Mother is in your dreams....** _

_Mother_.... Usaeleí inhaled once more as the soothing scent continued to wash away his anxieties, upon his next breath, he had finally succumbed to the pull, the ghostly hand still patting his head in a motherly way. He missed that touch... _Uxithchu’up_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lycandrake: a wingless dragon (commonly known as drake) with a wolf-like stature.  
> [Usaelei often calls his were creature a lycandrake because he doesn't like being called a werewolf and instead of fur he grows sharp spines and spikes
> 
> Saxheel translations: 
> 
> Xhuth: Fuck
> 
> Xuth: shit  
> (Both words sound the same but are spelt differently)
> 
> Uxithchu'up: Mother ("uxith" technically means "egg" and "chu'up" means "woman" in Mayan. True translation is "egg mother")  
> [There were no words for mother in Saxheel so I plan to use ancient Aztec, Mayan etc. for when Usaeleí speaks in Saxheel.


	5. Hard Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is still being worked on. Also we see a conversation between Cicero's old self along with his crazy self though only briefly.

Cicero spent the remainder of the evening scouring near the camp searching for the amulet but to his disappointment found nothing. He did find some scraps of cloth from Usaeleí’s torn clothes. Definitely signs of a struggle, but no blood here. “But pretty Lizard had wounds...” Cicero reminded himself. _So_? The voice in his head scoffed dismissively. “Gah! Obviously, if the creature attacked him here, there would be blood. But no! There’s none! No. Not a drop or drip!” Cicero exclaimed angrily as he removed his hat and scratched his head. _If you really want answers, just follow the blood Usaeleí left when he came back Fool._ And that is just what the jester did. 

Once he was back at the camp, he stole a quick peek at the sleeping Argonian in the tent before finding the trail of blood. He glanced at Mother’s coffin feeling torn but steeled himself as he told himself and Mother that he would only be gone for an hour at most. He double checked to be sure he had his ebony dagger, then nodding firmly started following the faint trail of blood. It had been a long while since he last got the chance to track anything and even longer since he actually got to utilize his craft. Being Keeper prevented him from straying too far from Mother. Still, even on his travels Cicero would indulge himself in his craft of assassination to keep his skills from ever becoming rusty. He smiled at the fond memories before stumbling over a mangled corpse. 

Well, corpses. A group of bandits had been torn apart by what the Imperial deduced was the creature he had met last night. The bodies had a museum’s worth of wounds but there were two things that caught his attention the most. First, there were some bodies that had slices across their throats; which seemed to be done with very sharp claws and executed with quiet precision. The other was that their chest cavities were ripped open with their hearts missing. His amber eyes narrowed. If this beast was a Shadowscale, then he was either still in training, getting sloppy with his kills or like the Fool himself, enjoyed bringing a painful death upon his prey. He knelt down beside another body as he also found scales littering the ground with a familiar shade to them.

Then he found it.

The final piece.

There, laying beside what seemed to be the remains of a once proud and strong Redguard was the obsidian amulet. He gingerly picked it up and with the upmost care, dusted the dirt off of it. Twirling it around between his finger absentmindedly, Cicero made his way back. He should have been enraged that the Argonian almost attacked Mother, should have slaughtered him, however he found himself unable to blame him. Gah! He must be going further into insanity. Still, he’d ask the pretty lizard about it after punishing him. Again. He spotted the fire at camp burning bright at daybreak and noticed Usaeleí stoking the flames with the blanket over his shoulders. He was petting the mare as she nuzzled her head against his cheek. Cicero ducked into the tall grass and silently approached closer. 

Usaeleí unraveled the bandages on his arms and traced the now light pink scars. He closed his eyes and tapped the points on his antlers. They had grown heavy since he last tended to them. One, two, three, four, five? “I guess it's that time again.” He hissed as he reached for his filer and began filing down his horns until each horn had at least two points. He tossed the filed off points to the ground before turning his head in the jester’s direction. “Cicero, I know your there. I can smell you remember?” He grinned as the Imperial approached grumbling then while standing before the lizard, held up the amulet. Usaeleí’s mismatched eyes glittered like precious gems as he reached for it but growled when Cicero pulled it away, clenching it tight.

“I know you attacked me last night.” The Fool stated darkly as he crossed him arms and the lizard flinched. The jester continued, “You also threatened to harm Cicero’s dear sweet mother. True?” Silence. He grabbed one of Usaeleí’s antlers and hauled to his feet as the Argonian grasped the Imperial’s hand tightly. “True?” He repeated as stared coldly into the pretty lizard’s gold and emerald eyes and yanked his head to the side exposing his throat. “OWW! True!” Usaeleí hissed trying in vain to alleviate the pain in his skull. Cicero put the amulet between his teeth and grabbed his dagger then pressed it hard against his lizard's throat and watched as he swallowed nervously and with difficulty. The Argonian’s breathing started to quicken. The jester grinned maliciously as he pierced Usaeleí’s skin and carefully, almost tenderly dragged the ebony dagger across the sensitive skin between the lizard’s neck and shoulder delighting in the soft sensual whimpers he was receiving from him.

It was strange. Usaeleí was never easily aroused by anyone and yet as the blade carved into his scales, he felt the beast stirring, growling? No. He was purring at the administrations! His breath hitch as the dagger dug a little deeper into his shoulder blade and he bit his lip, a pleasured chuff radiating from his throat. Gods, it felt good… His eyes snapped open not even realizing that he closed them.

Finally having enough, Usaeleí smacked the jester's hand away and covered the wound with his hand pulling his lips back in an angry frown. The frown turned to shock when Cicero brought the dagger to his lips a teasing almost daring look in his wild amber colored eyes and the Argonian swiftly snatched it from his grasp. “Don’t.” He snapped then as he cleaned the weapon added in a faint whisper, “I don’t know what my blood will do to you....” “So, you ARE a werewolf. Aren’t yo-” Cicero yipped when Usaeleí flicked the now clean knife at the jester’s feet nearly missing his foot.

“I prefer the term ‘Lycandrake’. I grow spikes not fur.” The lizard spat bitterly. Then he smacked his forehead in disbelief realizing he just told a complete stranger what he was. Not any stranger, he reminded himself, an Imperial fool with psychotic tendencies.   
“Little lizard need not say anymore if he does not wish too.” Cicero shrugged and handed Usaeleí back his amulet. He got the information he wanted and his lizard learnt his lesson. Good. Usaeleí loathed talking about his condition. They took down the tent and loaded everything up on the wagon.

Usaeleí hitched the mare then upon climbing on to the driver’s seat took the reins from Cicero so the jester could attempt at a nap. Cicero refused to argue and after removing his jester’s hat, promptly laid his head on the lizard’s lap. Ignoring the blush creeping up on his scales, the Argonian clicked his tongue, urging the horse back on to the road and briefly glanced at the map. Next stop, Rorikstead.

He gazed down at the sleeping Fool and felt a smile form at how serene the jester looked asleep. Usaeleí merely shook his head.


	6. That First Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usaeleí gets a small taste of assassin life without the Lycandrake taking over. 
> 
> Once down this path  
> No turning back.
> 
> WARNING: GRAPHIC, BLOODY AND A DANGEROUS PROFESSION. (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

After getting the carriage into the Rorikstead stables, Usaeleí asked the innkeeper and his son to help with coffin. They understood the reasoning for having the coffin in close proximity as grave robbers and bandits would probably desecrate the jester’s mother.

While the men took care of bringing the coffin into the large room, Usaeleí gently shook Cicero awake, gripping his hand when the crazy fool’s reflexes kicked in and he attempted to stab him. He gave the lizard a chuckled as he hopped down and walked into the inn to their room. Usaeleí decided to tend to the horse and while he brushed her down, he spotted a courier sprinting up the road and right towards him. “Are you Usaeleí?” The young Nord panted as he caught his breath. He nodded as the courier rummaged through his satchel. “Got something for you. Just a moment... Aha! There it is.” The Nord smiled producing the letter. 

“A note?” Usaeleí questioned as he flipped the parchment around. No name. “Who’s it from?”

“Don’t know,” The courier shrugged, “The man kept his hood up. Paid me a hefty sum to get that into your scaly hands. Well, got to go.” 

On that note, the messenger sprinted away and the mare nickered softly as Usaeleí cocked his head to the side. He shrugged then stuffed the note in his pocket and continued tending the mare. He’d read after the letter later. Once finished with his chore, he wandered back inside where the innkeeper pointed to the room. “Crazy fool already bought you two supper for the evening.” The lizard thanked the Nord as he handed him a bowl of stew and a slab of cooked venison. Usaeleí walked into the room, welcoming the warmth of the fire and he sat before the flames. He heard the door open and he saw Cicero humming merrily with his gloves clenched between his teeth as he dried his hands with a rag. He froze and noticed the lizard staring at him.

His amber eyes flicked towards his palms then back at the lizard as his nostrils inhaled deeply. The oils from his hand piqued his lizard’s curiosity. “That scent... is it a mixture of ghost orchid and chrysanthemum?” Usaeleí asked twitching his tail like a cat. The jester nodded and turned around to put his gloves back on. “Uh. Yes. They were um, mother’s favorite oils.” Cicero answered quickly and turned towards the lizard clearing his throat. He took the bowl from the Argonian’s hand and sat down by the fire. He watched as Usaeleí carved the venison with his claws with careful precision as though he knew where the meat would be the most tender and where it wasn’t. He then tossed a large piece in the air before snapping his jaws around the morsel so swiftly, Cicero barely blinked.

He drank his stew as the Argonian curled up on the mat and began tugging on the meat like a sabre cat with a haunch. Claws held the venison in place, the juices leaking out around his scaly fingers. By Sithis, Cicero wondered if that was how he devoured the bandits from before. He shuddered with delight. Proud, dangerous and lethal. Surely if he put that talent to use, he’d be the perfect example of a Shadowscale. Possibly one of the last. Just as Cicero was about to ask the lizard about his ailment, the two turned to an argument outside and they went to investigate. They saw one of the villagers lashing out at his daughters over not doing something and Usaeleí saw the two children lowering their heads. His sharp eyes spotted bruises and faint scars on their pale skin and from how they were cowering knew what was going on. The father had been abusing them.

He bared his teeth and his spines bristled as he silently approached the man and gripped his wrist before he could strike the children once more glaring daggers at him. “Lemkil go home. My son and I will tend to the little ones.” The innkeeper said harshly as the girls hid behind the bar. Lemkil glared at the innkeeper then at Usaeleí before scoffing and walking out. “Is he always like that?” the Argonian asked the girls as he swished his tail and got down on one knee. They nodded and looking curiously at his antlers. His eyes soften as he tilted his head down and smiled. They gripped them with their tiny hands giggling softly as they told the funny Argonian about their father. Sissel and Britte were twins who lost their mother during childbirth and since then their father had been nothing but cruel to them. Even the townsfolk were fed up with how he treated them.

The mere thought of someone hating or for that matter, harming, a child for something they had no control over was cruel but to be abused by the man of their own blood had even the beast within seething. Once the girls were settled into a bed at the inn Usaeleí entered the room and unpacked his daggers. He stared at his reflection in the metal. Usaeleí never considered himself a violent or hateful man but he knew if something wasn’t done then the twins would suffer far worse. “And where do you think you’re going?” He heard the jester demand from behind him. The lizard briefly glanced at the Imperial as he smiled darkly.

“Oh. A bit of hunting. Would you like to join me?”

Cicero shivered at the dark, fanged smile of the Argonian and scoffed. “As if the Pretty Lizard had to ask!” The Keeper tossed his blade watching it spiral then caught it by the hilt, eyes seemingly glowing with anticipation.

“Who’s the prey?” 

The two men left the building in the dead of night as the town was dead asleep and following the scent that was Lemkil approached the door to his abode. Usaeleí shook his head in disbelief. The idiot Nord didn’t even lock his door. He glanced at Cicero, a scaly finger pressed to his lips and the Jester nodded. They quietly snuck inside and silently closed and locked the door. It was rustic looking home with a crackling hearth and there, asleep on the bed was Lemkil. Cicero had found some leather straps under a loose plank and grinned. Understanding what the fool was hinting at Usaeleí chuffed in silent agreement watching as the Imperial meticulously tied the sleeping man to his bed grinning excitedly.

Taking a rag from the wooden table, Usaeleí crept up silently nary making a sound on the wooden floorboards. He loomed over the Nord and bared his teeth as he shoved the rag deep into Lemkil’s throat. The Nord jolted awake and opened his eyes in shock. He gagged on the cloth as he tugged to free his bound wrists. A scaly hand gripped Lemkil’s scowling face and forced it to his assailant.

“Harming a child over something they had no control over sickens me.” The lizard flicked his tongue making a disgusted face at the taste of the despicable creature before him. “Blaming them for being born? Cruelty at its finest.” He brushed his claws against his shirt as Cicero perched himself on the bedpost shaking and giggling in delight. Usaeleí made short work of Lemkil’s night shirt before drawing his knife.

“Personally, I dislike the idea of cutting in to foul, stringy meat, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” Usaeleí growled softly as his eyes glowed dimly. The lycandrake was making itself known however the Argonian felt that it was observing just under his hide, ready to spring if need be. “Perhaps, sweet Lizard would like to add some ‘flavor’ to make his meal a little more satisfying?” Cicero suggested as he shifted slightly on the post to face the Argonian. Usaeleí tilted his reptilian head towards the jester and hummed thoughtfully. “And what kind of ‘spice’ were you suggesting, dear Cicero?” Usaeleí teased while twirling his steel dagger, watching Lemkil squirm and whimper.

Cicero reached into a pocket within his motley and produced a small vial that had a sickly green liquid inside. It also glowed with a faint blue tint. The Argonian took the bottle and uncorked it. A powerful pungent scent filled his senses. It left a heavy bitter and sour taste in his mouth. “Is this made from canis root?” The Jester just grinned. Usaeleí rolled his eyes then inspiration struck as he dipped some of his claws into the vial, coating them. He opted to dig his poisoned claws through the Nord’s throat but stopped when Cicero gripped his wrist.

“That would kill him too quickly, sweet little Drake. Might Cicero suggest here?” The Imperial grinned guiding Usaeleí’s claws towards Lemkil’s stomach. Ignoring the fluttering in his chest, the Argonian dug his claws deep into the flesh, marveling at how Lemkil twitched and his muffled screams had the lycandrake purring hungrily. It liked this game very much. He slowly raked his claws down leaving thin red canyons leaking red rivers along his snowy scales. The Nord squirmed weakly as the poison paralyzed him. “Next across the ribcage following the ribs.” Cicero instructed. Usaeleí hissed as he obeyed. “Not so quick,” The jester cautioned, “Let him feel your claws. Let him know what pain actually is.” 

Usaeleí swallowed as he quickly jabbed Lemkil’s ribs and following Cicero’s guidance, hooked his talons and slowly ripped the loose muscle almost feeling the man’s lungs beneath his claws. The Argonian continued to torture the bound man for what felt like hours and soon the lizard was struggling to breathe properly, the scent of iron, copper and salt overwhelming him. Even as he continued to leave more deep gashes on Lemkil, he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t take it anymore! He snarled and sank his fangs into the Nord’s throat, crushing his windpipe, silencing him. His claws grew longer as he shoved them through the ribcage and ripped out the still beating heart. Releasing Lemkil’s throat, Usaeleí watched as the light left the dying Nord’s eyes until only his reflection remained. 

Cicero was grinning and snickering merrily as the pretty lizard, bathed in the blood of his prey, tossed the heart into the crackling hearth. He snagged a clean set of furs from the dresser and the two men left the house, returning to their room just before anyone woke up. “That was..... mhmmm exhilarating! Ooh what fun!” Cicero shrieked as he crawled into his bed and yawned. “Mother should have seen sweet Drake. He’s a natural.” With that, the Imperial fell asleep in pure bliss.

Usaeleí was shaking, trembling. He looked down at his hands. He never killed like that before. Never ‘ _conscious_ ’ anyway. He could still feel the warm blood dripping from his claws. The worse part was that-

  
 **You enjoyed it though. The thrill of watching the wicked die before your eyes. The taste of their blood on your lips, quenching your thirst.** The Lycandrake hummed licking its claws. The pale Argonian shook his head, huddling close to the fire for comfort. _I... I don’t know..._ The beast cocked its head to the side. It was looking at him with, dare he say sympathy before fading back into the shadows of his mind. He reached into his pocket feeling parchment. He silently brought to the fire’s light and opened it. There was a black handprint in the center of the paper with the following words above it:

  
**WE KNOW**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flowers mentioned:
> 
> Ghost Orchid: an extremely rare and endangered white flower that looks like a ghost when it sways in the wind at night. 
> 
> Chrysthemum: an extremely toxic yellow flower associated with death. Very common and are usually seen at funerals. (Also called the flower of Death)


	7. Reminiscent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still feeling conflicted with what happened the night before, Usaeleí is pestered relentlessly by Cicero about his condition until he reluctantly shares a brief story about his life so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter may be altered later.

Usaeleí woke up to sound of chatter out in the hall of the inn followed by the twins gasping in alarm. He overheard the guard talking about their father’s demise with a wild sabre cat. Well, they weren’t wrong about a beast killing the horrible man but he cringed as his stomach rolled at memory of last night. The lizard rolled on to his side and pushed himself off of the ground before stretching out the kinks in his sore muscles. He dusted his fur tunic before exiting the room after noticing that Cicero was no where in sight. Assuming that he was having Erikur and his father assist with moving his mother’s coffin, the Argonian went to see the twins. They were smiling at him as he gave them a weak smile. “Did the lizard sleep alright?” Sissil asked as she stared at the Argonian’s tired gaze and he chuckled, nodding his head. He lied saying he had fallen off the bed upon waking up and was a little sore.

“Guess what! Guess what!” Britte giggled tugging on the lizard’s scaly hand and he cocked his head in a canine like fashion in curiosity. 

“What? Do I have cobwebs on my antlers?” 

The twins giggled and shook their heads. “No.” They said in unison then pointed at the Innkeeper as he and Erikur walked him wiping the sweat from their brow. “We have new papa and big brother!” 

The Argonian blinked in surprise at the owner who chuckled as the girls wrapped their arms around the man’s waist. He gave them a soft smile. That’s good... They deserve to have a good life. Usaeleí thought as he collected his things, including the sweetrolls he had made late in the morning and bowed his head at the innkeeper. He shielded his eyes from the bright light upon exiting the tavern and jogged over to the wagon where Cicero was waiting impatiently. Once he was on the carriage, Cicero flicked the reins and the horse trotted off. “Where to next?” Usaeleí wondered aloud as he looked at the map then blinked noticing that the Jester had circled Morthal. 

“What’s in Morthal?”

“Cicero needs to see an old acquaintance about something. He currently lives in Morthal, last Cicero heard.” The Jester answered before glancing at the Argonian before continuing, "And Cicero has needs to restock on more oils for dear sweet Mother.” 

“You sure the oils aren’t just for you?” Usaeleí snickered then barked painfully when the jester yanked on his antler and pulled his head to the side. “Should Cicero cut off pretty lizard’s tongue for even suggesting a scandalous and naughty idea?” Cicero grinned and the Argonian shook his head slightly growling when the jester released his horn. He rubbed his head to soothe the ache and he grumbled jerking his head up around when he heard a female voice chuckling. Again, where was that voice coming from?!

When Cicero gave him a curious look, Usaeleí waved his hand dismissively. They rode on in silence listening to the sounds of the birds flying high above and the Argonian closed his eyes exhaling heavily, content and relaxed. 

“May naïve Cicero ask something without pretty lizard getting angry?” The jester asked after a few hours had flown by. Usaeleí chuffed softly and sat up. He took that as a yes. “How did you get your ailment?” The Argonian flinched visibly. He then shook his head. “I don’t wish to talk about it.” Still Cicero persisted, pestering Usaeleí for nearly two hours until he finally had enough. His lips curled up in an angry snarl as he turned towards the jester and clenched the Imperial’s throat tight before he had a chance to defend himself. “I said ‘drop it’!” The Argonian spat before letting Cicero go and he took the reins. Cicero coughed rubbing his bruised throat stunned by the sheer power behind the grasp. However, he knew that Usaeleí was holding back intentionally. 

He stared at the lizard as the pale creature kept his reptilian face on the road, refusing to look or acknowledge the fool sitting beside him. After about another hour of silence, Usaeleí heaved an angry sigh before glancing at Cicero who just tilted his head to side like a curious child. “I was attacked by a beast in Murkmire, the place where I hatched.” The lizard began as he closed his eyes, the memory returning as clear as day. “I was only ten when it happened.”

_Twenty years ago:_

_“Usaeleí be careful!” His egg nurse, Vaka screeched as the young hatchling hung upside down in his favorite tree near the temple of Sithis. The look of merriment and playfulness plastering the little Argonian’s face as he dropped down into the golden Argonian woman’s arms as she sighed in relief nuzzling the little hatchling against the cheek with her snout. “You need to be more careful, my little Shadowscale!” The woman scolded as she put the child down and Usaeleí rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. He was the only one of his clutch to have hatched under the sign of the Shadow. Traditionally, he would have been taken to the Shadowscales for training to become one of them but they had become extinct a very long time ago. No one was even sure if there were any survivors. Still, he was content with what he had._

_“Vaka, can you tell me tell me about my parents?” The little Usaeleí questioned Vaka as she beckoned the little hatchling to follow her. He happily followed. The gold colored Argonian took his tiny hand as his big bright, green and yellow eyes glittered with wonder and she sighed sadly. She knelt down and gazed lovingly at the young Argonian. “Indeed, I will youngling, but first we must return to the village for supper.” She told him. The two marched through the marsh away from the temple until something else caught Usaeleí’s curious gaze. It was a strange creature, colored black and a very deep blood red. It wasn’t like any of the animals he had seen in Murkmire and he knew it wasn’t a plant. The creature kept low in the tall jungle plants enticing the curious little lizard to draw nearer._

_Vaka, realizing that her charge was no longer following her, panicked and turned around scanning the vast marsh until her green eyes landed on the threat in the grass. She gasped and rushed towards Usaeleí like a Daedra out of Oblivion. “USAELEÍ, RUN!!” She cried out desperately. But she was too late. The creature attacked and all Vaka could hear were the screams of her charge as the monster bit and clawed at the young Argonian. She drew a dagger from her hip and flung it into the creature as it snarled angrily, releasing its hold on the boy. Not wanting to deal with woman, the red and black creature slunk back into the shadows and dove into the inky waters below._

_“Hatchling!” Vaka shouted as she spun around finding poor little Usaeleí curled in on himself, covered in deep bite wounds and claw marks. Instinctively, the woman collected the child and rushed to her village to seek help._

“What happened next?” Cicero urged as he handed the Argonian the water skin. After taking a long drink, the pale lizard opened his eyes turning his gaze to the clear blue sky above. “Why are you so damn curious?” The lizard questioned back in irritation. “Because I’m a curious man.” Cicero answered bluntly and the lizard blinked. The only sounds they heard were the clopping of the mare's hooves against the cobblestone and the clacking of the steel wheels creaking along the path. Usaeleí exhaled through his nose as he shook his head before continuing. “Well, Vaka took me straight to the healer...”

_“Vaka! What is the meaning of this?” Sings-With-The-Wind gaped in alarm as the feathers on his scaly head ruffled and he spun around to the door of his hut opening abruptly, “By the Hist! What happened to Usaeleí?!” The dark brown Argonian mender snapped as he rushed to prep a cot for the hatchling. He motioned for the golden Argonian to place Usaeleí on the bed while he began grinding up a healing salve for the wounds all while hearing the hatchling whimper weakly. The two Argonians rushed to get the wounds cleaned and bandaged. Once Usaeleí was stable and had drank down a potion to fight off any infections, the healer had the woman sit beside his fire while he prepared a cup of lotus tea._

_“You say you didn’t see the creature?” Sings asked handing her the cup._

_Her spines drooped slightly then perked up as she took the cup shakily. “I honestly don’t know what I saw. It looked like a drake of some sort.” She answered, her emerald eyes flickering constantly to the now sleeping hatchling that lay on the bed. “To be fair, I was more concerned about Usaeleí’s safety.”_

_“A drake? I wonder if it correlates to the Beast of Sithis?” The healer questioned rubbing his chin softly._

_Vaka twisted her gaze in confusion. “The Beast of Sithis? I’ve never heard of the Void having a pet. The Shadowscales and the Dark Brotherhood are his Children, that I know and there were stories about the Wrath of Sithis. Are they perhaps related?” The mender scratched his head, his dark eyes closing as he struggled to find his words and he rose to put more wood on the fire._

_“Mind you, I can only tell you what I’ve heard. The tale of the Beast of Sithis was rarely, if at all, told mostly because the creature itself is shrouded in mystery. Some said Sithis would choose someone to be a vessel for a small portion of his wrath and power. Others said that the Beast was a sign of his own blood, a son or daughter, returning to Nirn to act on his behalf.” Sings-With-The-Wind explained, “Other than that, I don’t know anything else. Wait...”_

_The Argonian woman cocked her head to the side and coiled her tail around her stool watching as Sings began rummaging through a small desk. He produced a piece of parchment with a record of hatchlings born and who their parents were._

_“What are you looking at?” Vaka nodded towards the parchment._

_“Ah, yes. Here he is. Usaeleí. Hatched on Fredas the thirteenth of Hist-Dooka under the sign of the Shadow. The only one of his clutch to hatch at all that month. If I remember correctly, you said that no one in our village claimed his egg as theirs.” Vaka nodded once more as she caressed the hatchling’s snout with care, “Xhu, I questioned many of the villagers involved with the mating rituals, even asked our neighboring villagers and all said the same. We know not who his lineage is.”_

“Surely you can tell dear Cicero more of this tale?” The Fool urged once more only to have a sweetroll shoved into his hands to silence him. Usaeleí shook his head and bristled his spines. He had said enough for today. He didn’t want to revisit that memory just yet. Luckily, the snowberry sweetroll was the best distraction for the nosy Cicero. As he ate the delectable treat, the Argonian collected his thoughts and took a deep breath. He felt a bit better, oddly enough. He only ever told his friends about his past and he was actually happy to have told another person. He smiled to himself as urged the horse into a trot.

As Cicero finished the tasty dessert, he caught the lizard smiling. So, Usaeleí was supposed to become a Shadowscale, but as they had become extinct where he lived, he was living a normal average life. However, from the small bit information the Argonian gave him, Cicero deduced that his path was changed once more to a path Sithis must want him to follow. He had the abilities; he had the skills. He just needed a teacher. Still, the Keeper wondered why he was holding back. Oh, but he was a patient one. Yes, the Imperial had to be in his line of work and since the pretty lizard was warming up to him, even to the point of trusting him to tend to his wounds proved that maybe, just maybe, he could make an assassin out of Usaeleí.

“Does the drake take over often?” Cicero questioned as they stopped in a large cave for the night.

“Not as often as it did when I was still a hatchling,” Usaeleí admitted as he returned with a large stack of firewood, “Still, I lose control sometimes when I'm stressed, angry or scared. I have gotten better but, I still have my moments.”

He crouched low using his tail to sweep away any debris that would interfere with the fire. He used his claws to shave the moss and dried needles from the branches and propped the logs up. He grabbed some flint from his satchel and started scraping the stones against each other, sparks catching onto the dried branches. After a few small, short breaths the embers ignited into a crackling fire. He laid close to the fire humming in delight for the warmth. He yawned softly drifting off to sleep unaware that he was resting his head on Cicero’s lap. Nor did he notice the Jester smirking to himself as he absentmindedly petted the lizard’s scaly head as he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaka- translates to Sun in Saxheel. 
> 
> Vaka was Usaeleí's guardian when he hatched on yes Friday the 13th on the month of Second Seed (May) under the sign of the Shadow. He was the only one of his clutch to hatch under this Sign.
> 
> I am aware of some of the lore in regards to the Dark Brotherhood and the Shadowscales (though in truth not much is mentioned) I made my own little story that correlates to Usaeleí's condition and a brief look into his bloodline.


	8. Beware What Lies In The Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morthal. There's always something eerie about the swamps of Morthal.

Upon seeing the town of Morthal, Usaeleí immediately wanted to turn the wagon around and not look back. The marsh did remind him of his home in Murkmire but that just made him want to leave even more. Cicero, who was beside himself with delight, led the horse to the inn where Usaeleí one of the guards and an orc bard helped transport the casket into the large room Cicero had rented for them. Once his mother’s coffin was settled in, the jester hummed merrily as he collected a small bag and noticed the Argonian gritting his teeth. If the horrible singing upstairs was anything to go by, Cicero did not blame the lizard’s discomfort. However, he was not expecting Usaeleí to bolt out of the inn so swiftly that all he heard was the door leading outside closing behind him.

“Hey! Don’t leave Cicero behind!” The Imperial snapped as he ran after him. 

Usaelei inhaled the damp air and let out a low hiss. Something was off but turned his body slightly when he sensed the crazy fool trying to pounce him and bit back a chuckle as Cicero almost skidded to a stop near a large puddle. “So, Cicero’s friend is on the other side of the swamp.” He said dusting himself off and the two wandered around the large body of fog covered water towards a row of houses. One in particular caught the lycandrake’s attention and stopped. Cicero turned around to find Usaeleí staring at the house, more rather, the flowers enveloping the house.

“Is something wrong?”

“There’s... a lot of Deathbell and Nightshade flowers...” Usaeleí whispered to himself.  
Cicero tilted his head to the side, clearly not following as he watched the Argonian kneel down and pluck the dark purple, pinecone shaped flower. The flower completely off-set the lizard’s snowy scales. “Deathbell,” Usaeleí started then picked the purple and gold, star-shaped flower, “and Nightshade are not only both toxic and rare, they only grow where there is death.” Usaeleí’s mismatched eyes stared intently at the house once more and his nostrils flared when the scent of strong perfume permeated his senses. He gagged and covered his snout before jogging over to Cicero. The Imperial stopped at a door and knocked strangely. One. One, two, three. One, two. 

A mage in a dark blue robe opened the door just a crack and stared at Usaeleí. “Can I help you?” The Redguard questioned then noticed the jester. As if knowing, the wizard known as Falion, opened the door allowing the two men inside. While the two men waited for the wizard, the lizard noticed a little girl staring at him and he gave her a small wave. “Agni, why don’t you head to the inn? I’m sure my sister would love to have your company.” Falion ushered the young girl outside and she giggled when he smiled fondly at her. Once the girl was out of sight, Falion sighed and started gathering bottles off his shelf.

“I was expecting you a week ago. Distracted by a pretty face? Or had a little too much fun on your other hobby?” The wizard criticized as the fool snickered.

“Oh, a little bit of both.”

Falion glanced at Usaeleí who was reading one of his tomes in pleasant silence then flicked his gaze towards Cicero who was staring at the Argonian. Rolling his eyes, he handed the Imperial a satchel containing the oils then yanked the tome from Usaeleí’s hands. “Do you mind not looking in my personal studies, Scales?” The wizard snipped. The lizard scratched his head, taken back by Falion’s reprimanding but backed off and bowed his head in apology. The wizard huffed placing the tome back on the shelf and removed a gold book from the top shelf. He then handed the Argonian the tome. “Here, it’s a tome on Restoration.”

Usaeleí ran his scaly fingers across the binding before looking at Falion. “Um... Thank you?” He said uncertain what else to say. Just the wizard was about to send them away, Agni bolted through the door and hid behind Falion trembling.

“Agni, what’s wrong?”

“Helgi! Helgi’s back!”

The wizard blinked at the girl then asked if she was certain. The little girl nodded quickly and the wizard picked her up stroking her hair to calm her. “Who’s Helgi?” Usaeleí spoke before he could stop himself. Falion, no longer in the mood to talk, practically kicked the two men out and closed the door. Cicero huffed dejectedly and trudged on back to the inn while the Argonian followed after him. It was then he noticed the burnt down home near the tavern and he decided to investigate after giving Cicero the slip. He began asking around town about the destroyed house. From the information he gathered, the previous family that lived there had perished in a strange, aggressive fire and oddly, only the father survived as he was at the tavern when it had occurred.

“Something is off though...” The Argonian theorized as he stood before the house and he crossed his arms.

The house, by the look of it, used to be modest. Now, it was nothing but ash and burnt wood. There was still a lingering scent, though it was very old, of burnt flesh and blood. He walked slowly around the home before stopping before the hearth. Something glimmered in the remnants of the once proud fireplace, catching the lycandrake’s attention. Usaeleí knelt down and sifted through the old ashes until he found what he was seeking. Red and orange dust, still warm to the touch, heated his scaly fingers uncomfortably. “I thought so... These are purified fire salts. Highly flammable and extremely difficult to find.” The lizard examined. This told him that the fire wasn’t natural. But who set the fire? Why?

 **Me thinks it was the husband. The townsfolk keep saying he was lusting for the barmaid, Alva.** The beast hummed with a chuckle. Plausible, but highly unlikely. “The guards and the Jarl said that Hroggar was happily devoted to his family. I smell something foul.” The host reminded then felt his spines bristling. Someone was trying to sneak up on him. Assuming that it was the damned jester, the lizard swiped his tail across the floor only to stop when his tail collided through something so cold, his fanged teeth actually started to chatter. “You’re not Papa.” A tiny voice stated and Usaeleí slowly, very slowly, turned his head to glance over his shoulder to discover the swamp fog condensing, manifesting into a spectral child. “Who are you, mister?”

The Argonian stared at the little ghost girl for a few short minutes before clearing his throat and shifting his body so that he was facing the girl. “I’m Usaeleí. Are you Helgi?” The lizard asked softly. The ghost child nodded. He smiled faintly, “Can you tell me what happened here, hatchling?” Helgi scratched her head and tightly closed her eyes shut as though attempting to remember. She then gave the Argonian a playful look and he gave her curious snort.   
“I’ll tell you what happened if you play with me. Agni and I were supposed to play Hide and Seek but she doesn’t visit anymore.” Helgi suggested and Usaeleí, deciding to indulge the child, hummed in thought before grinning at her. 

“You promise to tell me?”

She nodded. He held up his pinky and her eyes seemed to brighten in delight as she hooked her pinky with his. By Sithis, she’s colder than the Sea of Ghosts! He hid his grimace with a grin as they both said in sync, “A promise is a promise.” 

“You count and I'll hide!” Helgi squealed as she receded into the fading mist. Once the child was completely gone, Usaeleí returned to Cicero who was currently covering his ears in the main hall. The tusked orc in the back of the room was playing his lute while singing off key. Oh Divines, this is worse than torture. The lizard hissed and quietly snuck up on the bard. With a swift flick of his tail, he pinched a nerve in the Orc’s neck causing him to crumple to floor dead asleep. “There,” He groaned before sitting at the table Cicero was at and he rested his chin on the wooden top, “blessed silence.” For the moment, the Imperial agreed as he nursed his throbbing head.

“I um, saw Helgi’s ghost...” Usaeleí muttered as he glanced at the Imperial as he returned with two mugs filled with hot tea. 

“Oh, so pretty lizard ditched poor Cicero to play with a ghost child?” Glared the Fool.

“I was _investigating_ ,” The lizard clarified as his eyes narrowed into slits at the Jester. “There’s something not right here and I’m determined to find out what it is. You could, oh, I don’t know, help-?” 

“Cicero will stay here,” Cicero held up his hand cutting off the lizard. “Afterall, dear sweet Mother needs me to stay close.”

 _Xuth, of course he’d say that!_ Usaeleí pulled his lips back, making an angry growl before pushing himself away from the table. He slammed the door behind him, not looking back and he hissed kicking his clawed feet into the mud. He then turned his head towards the burnt down house. His mismatched eyes caught a faint trail leading from the home up a hill behind the inn. The Argonian was just about to follow the trail when he heard a playful elfin giggle behind him. “My, are you having a bad night darling?” A seductive voice whispered to him and Usaeleí glanced over his shoulder.

A woman, Nord by the fair skin, approached him. She wore a dress that showed much of her cleavage and revealed her long, slender legs. The corset barely contained her large, plump breasts and her curves were in the right place. The woman had short black hair but her eyes... Her eyes were strange. They had Usaeleí on edge. He shifted defensively and crossed his arms over his chest, one brow raised suspiciously. “Can I help you, miss?” He asked icily. 

“Perhaps. I’ve never met an Argonian with scales like yours, let alone different colored eyes.” The woman smiled as she dropped her gaze down, scanning him slowly from head to toe. “I’m Alva.”

“Usaeleí.” His tail twitched as he answered, and he began tasting magic in the back of his mouth. Yet he couldn’t move. “Mhmm, you’re a lovely creature. Lean, strong... and you smell absolutely wonderful.” The woman drew closer until she was mere inches from him and that was enough for him. He moved away and hissed a warning. “I do not trust you. I must kindly ask you to leave me alone. Now.” Alva huffed but did not budge. He snapped his jaws when the strange woman reached to touch his face and she recoiled in time to save her hand. She glared at him before heading towards the inn. He snorted with satisfaction and continued to follow the foggy trail.

 **Well, I’m impressed.** Great, now the beast was awake. What do you want now? He grumbled while climbing the steep incline. The lycandrake chuckled softly. **You do realize you just told off a vampire slut, right?** A vampire? Well, that would explain the strange scent he detected. Usaeleí shook his head, seemingly quite proud of his accomplishment before he found himself at a cemetery. The fog was condensing around an unearthed grave. “Helgi? Are you here?” The Argonian whispered as he lowered his hand to his dagger. A frighten gasp caught his attention.

“Make Laylette go away!”

Just as the ghost girl shrieked, a woman manifested from the shadows and the Argonian drew his dagger. This woman was different from Alva. She was a Nord, yes, and a vampire from her red glowing eyes but she wore strange robes that reminded him of bats. She brandished a steel sword and her free hand began glowing with a red light. His eyes started glowing unbeknownst to him and he waited as Laylette circled him. “How interesting...” She cooed as she flexed her free hand and the red hued changed into a light green color. “Master would love to have cute pet-thrall like you.” The lizard snarled as the spines on his neck and tail bristled. He had to move! Now! He rolled to the side just barely avoiding the vampire’s spell.

“Hold still you little lizard!”

“Um, how about no.” 

The she-vamp hissed and continued to throw her spells at the lizard who just effortlessly danced out of reach. **Biko! Watch out!!** He turned to try and dodge another attack but was blindsided by another spell that wasn’t from Laylette. Usaeleí’s body shuddered and he stumbled to his knees as the magic locked up his muscles. _Xhuth! Paralysis magic?!_ He fell to his side and helplessly watched as Laylette and another vampire he couldn’t see approached him and stripped him of his weapons. “An unusual thrall-to-be indeed. Movarth will be delighted.” A male voice sounded as Laylette blindfolded Usaeleí’s eyes with a rag.

His wrists were bound and his snout was tied shut with rope. He then felt himself being tossed over someone’s shoulder and although unable to see, he could smell that he was being taken deeper in to the swamp. 


	9. A Deadly Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Usaeleí doesn't return to the inn, the fool decides to take matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *alternate title* Don't play with your food. 
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter been dealing with a lot of crazy stuff. Thank you everyone for giving my fic a chance.

Cicero grumbled and groaned as he crossed his arms over the table, constantly looking over his shoulder, wondering, waiting; for the Argonian to return. The door open and the red-haired Imperial stole a hopeful glance that turned sour when a Nord woman walked inside. “Alva, you’re late. What kept you?” The Redguard woman scolded as she wiped the bar down. The woman known as Alva shrugged. Cicero absentmindedly listened to the women’s prattle and wondered what was taking Usaeleí so long. The Lizard was probably still playing with that ghost girl. _Poor Cicero angered pretty Lizard again. He was only doing what was natural to him..._ The jester sighed dramatically and continued to stare at the door. The Argonian had been on edge ever since they arrived to Morthal and after poking his snout into the burnt down house, had been borderline agitated about something. _And once again, Cicero spoke before he thought! Stupid! Foolish Cicero!_

Pulled from his thoughts and his drink a half hour later, the Keeper felt his Mother’s aura growing into a state of panic and he rushed downstairs to check on her. During his time as Keeper of the Night Mother, Cicero had developed a sixth-sense allowing him to pick up on Mother’s energies. True, he could not hear her, but he could most definitely feel her moods and right now, something was troubling her. He removed his gloves and reached for the oils on a nightstand nearby but his hand froze when he heard Alva’s voice along with another he did not recognize and he quickly hid himself in the shadows under the stairs. His amber eyes watched as two shadows entered the cellar. He instinctively gripped his black dagger as two women mumbled quietly. “Are you sure we’re alone, mistress?”

“Yes. Now, you mentioned that you managed to subdue him for the Master. Is this true, Laylette?” He heard Alva whisper urgently to her companion.

“Yes, Mistress Alva. It was wasn’t easy. Even with the girl’s ghost interfering.” The woman known as Laylette answered with delight. “His very being resonates with magic and more. Movarth will probably have a hard time breaking him let alone subduing him.”

Alva giggled, her green eyes bleeding to a glowing red. She then twirled her fingers through her hair as she glanced at the coffin behind her then shrugged. “The master always liked a challenge.” The vampiress smiled at her handmaiden, “Either way, that Argonian WILL serve us and if not, well, his hide will most definitely sell for a hefty sum.”

“You’ve been reading _Confessions of the Khajiit Fur Trader_ again haven’t you, mistress Alva?”

“Better than _The Lusty Argonian Maid_ and _One Thousand and One Alik’rian Nights_.”

It suddenly dawned upon Cicero that the two vampires were talking about Usaeleí, which explained why he had yet to returned! He waited until the women parted ways and he decided to follow Alva to her house after her shift was done. His Mother seemed to be ushering him to hurry. He remained in the shadows and now knelt before the locked door of her home. He twirled his knife slightly and carefully wedged it into the lock. Cicero pressed his ear against the door, listening to the mechanism click as he maneuvered his dagger around. _Click, click, chunk_... He grinned and silently pushed the door open. He took in his surroundings carefully.

Small house. The hearth had died out no more than two hours ago. The faint sound of snoring caught his attention as he whirled around to find a Nord man dead asleep. Part of him wanted to take advantage of the opportunity but decided against it as he felt Mother ‘pushing’ him to the basement. He found a coffin in the center of the large room on a dais. He locked the door behind him and removed another dagger from his belt. This one radiated a dark green hue and sang with a deadly hum. Paralytic enchantment. He perched himself like a cat on the coffin and he stared at the sleeping barmaid. With surgical precision, he made a tiny incision on Alva’s chest, close to her heart. A startle, yet subdued gasp, escaped the woman as her body instantly locked up from the blade’s enchantment. 

“Oh, Cicero is so sorry for disturbing the pretty vampire lady,” The mad man grinned not feeling sorry at all as he moved away from the dais to light a torch on the wall. “But he is hoping you could play a game of questions with him. After all, you stole what belonged to him.”

Before the vampire could speak, let alone inquire what he meant, Cicero brandished what looked to be a set of shiny, silver throwing knives and the faint color disappeared from Alva’s face. She could barely contain a scream when the Imperial slammed one of his daggers through the woman’s hand, piercing through the stone under the wooden coffin and velvet lining. Alva twitched and squirmed as the silver burned through her once smooth, flawless skin leaving red welts and blisters around the wound.

“Wha-what do you think you’re doing, you fool?!” She shrieked as she reached over to attempt to dislodge the dagger from her hand. 

_Shiink!_

Alva screamed once more as Cicero pinned her other hand with another silver dagger as he flashed a maniacal smile. “Ah, ah, ah. I will ask the questions.” Cicero reminded while he traced a third silver knife along the vampire’s collar bone. She whimpered nervously as the cold metal ghosted her skin and her glowing red eyes bulged as he applied a little more pressure. “If you tell dear, sweet, Cicero what he wants to know, he won’t kill you.” He kissed his knife softly before turning his amber eyes back to the subdued Alva, “However, lie to me and I will paint this room with your blood for dear sweet Mother.” 

“Go fuck yourself, little Fool!” 

The jester’s amber eyes darken, tilting his head eerily to one side and he blinked owlishly at the woman’s words. He reached into his breast pocket and shook a tiny vial with glowing water inside in front of the wretched woman’s face. “Do you know what this is?” He inquired delightfully only to frown when the vampire lips became a thin line. Silence. The jester sighed exasperatedly, opening the lid. “Fine. Cicero will tell the stick-in-the-mud vampire what this is. This is Holy Water from the Temple of Meridia.” Alva gulped nervously while the Keeper continued, “And Cicero knows how much she loathes your kind.”

“You- You wouldn’t?!”

A sadistic grin plastered his face.

The murderous jester perched himself once more over Alva, threathening to pour the vial contents relishing at the sight of the vampire quivering in terror before him. “Try me.” He growled, all traces of fun and merriment leaving his features as he annunciated his words slowly, carefully, “Answer my question. I will not ask again. Where. Is. Usaeleí?”


	10. Take Back What's Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itty bitty spaces for an argonian? Nope.  
> Movarth taking the Keepers lizard? A death wish to be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little tender moment at the end. (Please don't hurt me.)

Chains. He never had chains on him before but he knew immediately that he disliked the cold metal against his scales. His snout twitched slightly and Usaeleí turned his head to the left in the direction of approaching footsteps, followed by an amused chuckle. “Well, well, well. My servants were not joking when they said you were a strange Argonian.” A sophisticated male voice echoed throughout the chamber and the white lizard felt an ice-cold hand tear off his blindfold. Blinking, allowing his eyes to adjust, Usaeleí was met by a pair of fiery, blood-red eyes belonging to a Breton around his height. His hair was a dark brown and his face had several scars about it. “I am Movarth.” The lizard just glared at him, his pupils becoming faint slits when the vampire gripped his muzzle and stared darkly at the fiend. “My, your eyes absolutely beautiful. The right one is as green as the forests of Valenwood and the other as golden polished amber.” Movarth commented. “I normally don’t find myself drawn to males but you may become the exception.”

Despite his maw being tied shut, Usaeleí managed a low guttural growl. Again, the vampire only chuckled. “You can growl at me all you want. It won’t change your fate of becoming my thrall little lizard.” Movarth continued as he gently traced the Argonian’s scaly cheek causing Usaeleí to shudder in disgust. The elder vampire brought his face closer to Usaeleí's, tracing his nose asking the lycandrake's neck hissing in delight at the sound of his pet's racing heart. "Perhaps a taste?" Usaeleí heard the vampire think aloud and he snarled as he tried to smack the undead vermin away with his horns. Suddenly, Movarth’s hand withdrew from his face and he motioned for someone behind him to approach. “What is it, Laylette?” 

“A thousand pardons for disturbing you, Master but I just received word that Lady Alva was just murdered.” The young female vampire informed shakily.

“Hmm. A pity but interesting. She was one of the best in the coven.” Movarth said disappointedly while rubbing his knuckles against his shirt. The vampire flicked his gaze to the lizard who snickered to himself at the news. Cicero probably got bored of waiting... Movarth narrowed his cat like eyes then whistled for two of the thrall to come forth. “Stuff him in one of the coffins. I’ll deal with him later. I believe we may be expecting unwanted company.” The ancient vampire ordered as he spun around leaving the chamber. 

The first thrall was a brawny Altmer who gripped the Argonian’s bound wrists and hoisted him up effortlessly while the shorter, Dunmer gripped his legs and tail. Even as he thrashed about and struggled, Usaeleí still could not fight them off. One of the lower ranking vampires opened up a coffin in a massive chamber as the two thralls promptly shoved the defiant lizard in to the casket. Usaeleí’s mismatched eyes widen to the size of sauces as the lid closed above him, leaving him enveloped in darkness. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart as it began to race. His scales felt cold and his breathing was quickening, close to hyperventilating. The lycandrake was not afraid of the dark. Not in the very least. However, as he laid in this small, dank and dark wooden box, it became clear that Usaeleí was claustrophobic.

Cicero let out an exasperated sigh as he twirled his dagger between his fingers. So, Alva tried to seduce the crazy fool’s pretty lizard into becoming her thrall and failed when the Argonian bluntly snapped at her. As revenge, she had her pretty handmaiden ambush Usaeleí and spirit him away to their lair half a mile out of town. Well, Cicero was not just going to sit on his arse while his lizard remained captive. Wow, when did he ever want to be a hero? He rolled his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug and skipped merrily through the dense fog, following the beaten down path until it ended at the mouth of a large cave. Fresh blood splatters littered the dirt and there were small piles of bones scattered about. “Cicero should get to work and find his dear sweet Usaeleí.” The Fool of Hearts grinned as he slunk into the shadows. 

There was an insisted pounding of wood somewhere and the Keeper kept looking cautiously around for the source all while indulging himself with his silent bloody kills. He chuckled happily. Oh, how he missed the good old days. His old Listener would pass out contracts to his Speaker who would then relay the job to sweet Cicero and he would carry them out flawlessly. He soon found himself in what he believed to the main chamber of the cave where he saw whom he assumed was Movarth. “My, you certainly made a mess of my home Assassin. Where are your manners?” The vampire chided as he sat arrogantly on his chair. Cicero rolled his eye internally.

“Oh, and what a lovely home it is!” He squealed, “Your thralls were certainly hospitable. Cicero needed the practice though.”

“Practice indeed. From your scent, I take it you were the one who murderer my sweet Alva?”

“To be fair, pretty vampire had it coming. She had her servant steal Cicero’s pretty little Usaeleí.” The jester tapped his soaked dagger on his shoulder as he looked around, his honeyed eyes noting that there were other vampires attempting to sneak up on him while he kept his stare firmly on Movarth. He quickly spotted a coffin in the center of the room that seemed to resonating with pounding he heard earlier. “And I would like him back. Now!” Movarth blinked then clutched his stomach as a maniacal laugh vibrated around the large cavern. “Dibella’s garters, aren’t you a bold one? Thinking you can stroll in to my home, slaughter my servants and then demand from me? Are you mad?”

 _What was his first clue? The jester’s outfit? The crazed look in his eyes? For an old bloodsucking leech, he’s an idiot._ Cicero whole-heartedly agreed with the voice in his head. Once his laughter died down, the old vampire snapped his fingers and at least a dozen of his remaining bloodfiends appeared from the shadows. “Perhaps I shall add you to my menagerie as well. Take him!” 

"Cicero asked nicely first." The Imperial pouted but his maniacal grin returned, "Oh well."

Usaeleí could hear everything that was transpiring outside of his wooden box and he was now frantically kicking and thrashing violently trying desperately to get free. He was unaware that Movarth had sealed it shut with magic and only if the dreaded vampire willingly released the magic or died, the coffin would remain shut. Oxygen was running low and the lycandrake was feeling lightheaded. He managed to somehow roll on to his stomach where he started pushing against the wooded lid with his back. Still, the stubborn plank held. He closed his eyes heaving heavily as the air grew thinner and thinner. The last thing he heard was an angry snarl from Movarth. “I’ve had enough with these games! Now, you die!” He heard the elder vampire declare. The Argonian banged on the lid harder and harder as he heard the battle raging then after what felt like an eternity, the battle ended.

“Oh, so sad, the big bad vampire wasn’t even a challenge. What a waste.” Cicero groaned as he kicked Movarth’s dismembered corpse away from him and approached the coffin in the center of the room. The pounding had ceased but he could hear the faint breathing of someone inside and he pulled open the lid. Inhaling deeply, Usaeleí sat up on his knees shakily as he felt fresh air enter his lungs. He turned his reptilian head to the side and stared at the jester.

“Wh.....what... ke...pt.... you?” He forced the words out.

“Cicero wanted to make sure the evil vampires suffered for stealing what belonged to him.” He said plainly as he gently pulled the weak-kneed Argonian out of the coffin. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He added allowing Usaeleí to lean on him for support. They returned to the inn where Cicero had the still shaking lizard head to bed. While stoking the fire in their room downstairs, Cicero couldn’t help but notice the look of terror on the lizard’s face when he sat up holding his scaly face, rasping for breath. Before Cicero could stop himself, the jester sighed as he tossed another log on the fire then crawled into the bed beside the small Argonian, carefully sliding an arm under Usaeleí’s neck as the creature stared at him blankly. 

His free hand reached up and he ran his knuckles soothingly across the Argnonian’s scales. The lizard’s jeweled eyes waivered as they close and he nestled his head in the crook of Cicero’s neck. Usaeleí’s trembling slowly died and the Fool of Hearts found himself absentmindedly stroking the lycandrake’s back. “Cicero is only doing this just this once.” He told himself once he was certain the pretty lizard was dead asleep. “After all, he took care of Cicero when he was ill.” He watched as the lizard’s breathing calmed and he could feel his heartrate slow to a steady rhythm. Soon enough, the jester found himself drifting off into the serenity of sleep, holding his Usaeleí close. Whether for his own comfort or to reassure the Argonian that he was safe, was unknown but he knew one thing. _Usaeleí is mine._


	11. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A waking nightmare causes Usaeleí to attack Cicero. Mortified at what he has done, our poor Argonian runs away from the Keeper in hopes to keep him safe from himself. But he can't keep running forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is still being written but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

_Shadows dancing. Voices whispering. Images of a hooded figure standing beside a woman in a black gown while four children run around laughing and playing. They look up and beckon him to come nearer. Usaeleí felt his body move instinctively on its own towards the strange family. The woman caressed his cheek lovingly and he found himself humming contently as she pulled him closer to her in a tender embrace lifting the lycandrake’s chin seemingly to get a better look at him. His eyes widen in shock. The woman had the same eyes as him. One green and the other gold. The hooded figure reached out a ghostly hand and rested it gently atop his head between his antlers. His eyes, though deep red in color, were familiar and though they held a firm gaze, there was a comforting warmth radiating from them. “Filius meus es tu iam aetatem et in semine benedictionem meam. Tu suscipe?” The hooded figure asked calmly._

_“Xhu pater autem tenebris.” Usaeleí answered calmly in a tongue that was not entirely his own. The figure smiled proudly under the shadows of his hood and the Argonian felt a burning sensation trickle down from the dark figures hand through his body. His blood boiled and froze all at once as he looked down his body. His scales, though still pale as ice, began to glow with faint red and black symbols. He closed his eyes as the blessing imbued him with incredible strength. His magicka reserves nearly doubled and he could feel the energy just beneath his scales. It was almost overwhelming but he remained steadfast and true. He had to._

_Suddenly, a searing pain raked through his body as the dream descended into a nightmare. He became enveloped in a raging inferno. All around him were flames! The smoke filled his lungs. He couldn’t see very well. He couldn’t even breathe without inhaling the ash and coughing. He saw soldiers in strange armor similar to the Imperial soldiers he had seen roaming Morthal. One of them grabbed him violently by the throat and proceeded to choke him all while laughing manically. “Open your eyes!” He commanded as Usaeleí. “Pretty lizard, open your eyes!”_

“Usaeleí! Wake up! You’re dreaming!”

The Argonian let out an animalistic snarl and lashed out at his attacker. His claws slicing through fabric and flesh. He wasn’t going down without a fight.

_Slash!_

It was the sound of the jester yelling out in pain that snapped the Argonian from his nightmare. “By the Dread Father! That hurt!” Cicero screeched holding his neck painfully. Fresh blood dripping from the canyons on the Imperials pale skin. Wounds left by his claws! Usaeleí recoiled in horror as he glanced down at his now stained claws. The scent of copper and iron permeated his senses as he could see by the look in the jester’s wide-eyed expression that he was in shock. “I... I... I didn’t mean too...” The Argonian could barely annunciate his words but he knew no apology could change what he had done. He knelt down before the Imperial as he offered his hand to help the man up. The crazy jester actually recoiled in fear. Unintentionally, but the reaction was all the answer the lizard needed.

“I’m sorry...” Usaeleí said numbly as he wrapped the jester’s wound. It was only fitting. Tend to his friend’s wound then leave. “But I think it best, we part ways, biko.” He then quickly gathered his belongings and before Cicero could even utter a protest, he was gone. The lycandrake was gone. Cicero had raced after him but once outside let out a curse of anger. The thick fog had blanketed the entire town in its grasp and covered the lizard’s form. He turned his head to find a pair of glowing eyes staring at him. Before he could even reach out, the orbs vanished, leaving Cicero alone in front of the inn. He faintly heard the squelching of mud to his left but from the footsteps, it sounded like a deer. It didn’t sink in fully to Cicero that Usaeleí had left until he returned to his mother. She felt sad and worried. He placed his hand upon hi bandaged neck. He had actually shown fear towards the lizard. 

No... It wasn’t fear _of_ the lizard. Cicero was afraid _for_ the lizard. The way he tossed and turned in sleep. Mumbling incoherently, his scales were as cold as ice and he seemed to be in pain. Whether if it was a nightmare induced by the beast or not, Cicero knew not. He was alone again. Alone... No! He didn’t want to be trapped in silence again! It was more than maddening. It made his heart hurt. He clenched his fists angrily. Pretty lizard left him! How could he?! Growling, the fool wandered back inside to gather his things. He felt a soothing aura wash over him. “No!” He snapped waving his hand as though to disperse the aura. He wanted no consoling. No coddling. He wanted his little lizard. Still the aura lingered, holding him in a motherly embrace. 

The Night Mother could not speak directly to her sweet Cicero, but nonetheless, the jester relaxed to her ghostly embrace. She knew as well that Usaeleí did not mean to harm the Keeper. She understood why he was running away, even though it hurt. Her husband’s blessing upon the young Argonian was done prematurely and had since then been tearing Usaeleí from the inside out no matter how hard he tried to maintain control. She silently prayed to her lover, her husband to guide their lost child back home, to where he belonged. Once Cicero had settled down, he turned to the coffin and sighed. “Thank you, dear, sweet Mother. She is right. Cicero needs to be patient. Pretty lizard will come back.” Cicero said to the air. 

_**In time, my sweet Cicero. In time. For now, Usaeleí needs a much firmer hand to aid him. Worry not my child, for the Dread Father will protect him.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin translations:
> 
> Filius meus es tu iam aetatem et in semine benedictionem meam. Tu suscipe?- My son, you are now of age to receive my blessing. Do you accept?
> 
> Xhu pater autem tenebris- Yes, Dread Father (Father of Shadows)


	12. Preview: First Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone sorry that the posting is sluggish. In the process of moving and with this "bug" has even me suffering from cabin fever. But in the meantime here is a taste of part 3 of this series. Tell me what you think in the comments or if you have any suggestions. Much love :D

Cicero stared intently at the massive beast before him as he clutched his wounded arm. Usaeleí had shifted, actually shifted willingly, into his monstrous form and was now standing over the jester protectively, his scaly lips pulled back in an angry snarl at the massive werewolf that had taken Arnbjorn’s place. Long gleaming fangs glisten in the fire’s light. The Argonian had taken the form of the lycandrake willingly! The plethora of long pointy spikes that stemmed from his shoulders all the way down to the tip of his tail in a thick armor were more like demonic quills. His eyes... His beautiful mismatched eyes held no trace of the jester’s precious little lizard instead, they were glowing a brilliant gold and an emerald green. Only the beast remained and it was out for blood. The werewolf made a mistake in trying to harm the Keeper. _No, not the Keeper_ , the Argonian corrected, _mate_. He would teach the mutt a lesson.

The growls and snarls intensified as Arnbjorn paced from side to side trying to find the best way to attack. He was certainly larger in size compared to lizard and more experienced but the lycandrake was not backing down. Usaeleí’s spines quivered as his claws dug into the dirt below, eyes never leaving the wolf’s. Then Arnbjorn pounced making Usaeleí stagger as the werewolf dug his claws into the Argonian’s back pulling and tearing some of the spines and scales off him. He bit into Usaeleí’s neck attempting to rip into his throat. The lycandrake roared as he sank his fangs into the wolf’s shoulder and tossed him off then raked his claws across Arnbjorn’s thick furred covered chest leaving four deep claw marks to bleed angrily eliciting a pained yelp from the sand colored werewolf. 

The two were growing more aggressive, more bloodthirsty and if something wasn’t done soon, Sithis would be welcoming one of his children real quick. Arnbjorn howled angrily when the Argonian connected his antler skull into his, splitting his brow. Using his tail like a whip, Usaeleí managed to force Arnbjorn on to his back by sweeping his feet from under him then dug his front claws into the werewolf’s shoulders to prevent him from escaping. Usaeleí was about to sink his fangs into the werewolf’s jugular when Astrid, who heard the commotion and rushed from the dining hall to the training area, threw a dagger into the lycandrake’s left thigh. He pulled his head back letting out a terrible screech as he was forced to back off limping. The glow in his eyes intensified as Usaeleí whipped his head in the Nord’s direction while trying to steady himself on three legs. He didn’t attempt to shift back. “What is the meaning of this?! Usaeleí, what in Sithis’ name have you done to my husband?!” The blonde cried out angrily as she rushed over to Arnbjorn. The Argonian lowered his head growling lowly, nostrils flaring.


End file.
